
Class...- 

Book 

Gopyiiglit}!?- 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE CHILD 

HJS THINKING, FEELING, AND DOING 



THE CHILD 



NIS THINKING, FEELING, AND DOING 



By 

AMY ELIZA TANNER 

Professor of Philosophy in Wilso7i College, Chamber sbiirg 

Pennsylvania: formerly Associate in Philosophy 

in the University of Chicago 



RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY 

Chicago New York London 



Copyright^ iqo4 
By Amy Eliza Tanner 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two GoDies Received 
MAY 4 1904 
Oooyrlffht Entry 

CLAS» d- XXo. No. 

^ I. ( ^ ) 
COPY B 




®^je ^anif-^Blc^aUy $)«««» 



Chicago 



THE PREFACE 

In working over the mass of material which has 
accumulated on Child-Study, I have been most 
impressed by the fact that even now so few general 
laws can be formulated about child-nature. The 
material is still in a chaotic state, and seems destined 
to remain so for some time, because the reports from 
different authorities are so conflicting. In many cases 
the conflict is doubtless due to different conditions of 
observation; but in other cases it is due to differences 
in children resulting from heredity, nationality, or from 
surroundings— homes, food, and education. I therefore 
appreciate the fact that some of the observations given 
here will be seriously modified by later ones. I do 
not necessarily defend the observations which I cite; 
I only present the most reliable and leave them for 
confirmation or rebuttal. 

On this account, I have not attempted to draw many 
general conclusions, or to work out any complete 
educational theory. I have aimed rather to bring 
together under one cover a summary of the impor- 
tant work done thus far in Child-Study, so that the 
teacher and mother who have little access to libra- 
ries may understand something of what the condition 
of the subject is, and may, if so disposed, con- 
tribute toward filling up its gaps. This side of the 
matter is the more prominent in my own mind because 
the book is the direct outcome of the difificulties which 
I met in teaching the subject to my classes in the Uni- 
versity College of the University of Chicago. There 

3 



A THE PREFACE 

seemed to be a need for a book which should give 
a resume of observations which at that time were to be 
obtained only in all sorts of magazines and books, and 
which were yet necessary to an understanding of the 
subject. Such a book would also, it seemed to me, 
furnish something of the perspective which is neces- 
sarily lacking in scattered reading, would serve as a 
stimulus to more careful study of the children with 
whom we deal every day, and would aid in preparing 
the soil for abetter educational theory than at present 
prevails. 

Although lacking in theory, the book should still 
serve as a background upon which to sketch in details 
of the child whom we know best. In the study of one 
child or of a few children, to which we are most of us 
limited, we are rather prone to conclude that character- 
istics which are in truth peculiar to the little group 
known to us belong to all children. A knowledge of 
these wider observations will prevent such errors and 
will lead to more careful study. 

Grateful acknowledgment is hereby made to Dr. 
Stuart H. Rowe, Lecturer on Pedagogy at Yale Uni- 
versity, who read the manuscript of this book and made 
many valuable suggestions; to the Pedagogical Semijiary 
for permission to reproduce the charts found on pages 
331 and 408; to the Elementary School Record for per- 
mission to quote from Mrs. May Root Kern's article 
on Song Composition, and to the many authors whose 
works I have consulted freely. 

Amy Eliza Tanner. 

December y i(poj. 



THE TABLE OF CONTENTS 



Chapter 



/ 

// 

/// 

IV 

V 

VI 

VII 

VIII 

IX 

X 

XI 

XII 

XIII 

XIV 

XV 

XVI 

XVII 

XVIII 

XIX 

XX 



Page 
The Preface ...... 3 

The Abbreviations 6 

Introduction g 

Growth of the Body . . . -15 
Abnormal Bodily Conditions . . 32 

Feelings and Ideas of Sex . . -56 
Sensation and Perception ... 69 

Memory ....... 96 

Imagination 120 

Conception and Reasoning . . . 141 
Religious Sentiment and Theological 

Ideas 173 

Conception of Good and Evil . . 193 

Feelings and Emotions . . . 212 
Interests . . . . . .231 

Impulsive, Reflex, and Instinctive 

Movements ..... 252 
Growth in Control of the Body . . 275 
Imitation and Suggestion . . . 290 

Language 311 

Rhythm and Music . . . . 339 
Drawing ....... 373 

^^^Y . 393 

Summary 416 

The Index „ 426 

5 



THE ABBREVIATIONS 

Alien, and Anthrop Alienist and Anthropologist 

Alien, and Neur Alienist and Neurologist 

Am. Jour. Folk Lore American Journal of Folk Lore 

Am. Jour. Psy American Journal of Psychology 

Am. Jour. Soc American Journal of Sociology 

Am. Nat American Naturalist 

Am. Phys. Ed. Rev American Physical Education Review 

Boston Med. & Surg. Jour Boston Medical and Surgical 

Journal 

C. S. M Child Study Monthly 

Contemp. Rev Contemporary Review 

Educ Education 

Ed. Rev Educational Review 

Inland Ed Inland Educator 

Int. Jour. Ethics International Journal of Ethics 

Jour, of Anthrop. Inst, of G. B. & Ireland Journal of the An- 
thropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland 

Jour, of Ed Journal of Education 

Jour, of Ped Journal of Pedagogy 

Kgn. Mag Kindergarten Magazine 

Kgn. Rev Kindergarten Review 

Mag. of Art Magazine of Art 

Med. Mag Medical Magazine 

Med. Rev Medical Review 

Mind, N. S Mind, New Series 

Montreal Med. Jour Montreal Medical Journal 

N. Am. Rev , North American Review 

N. W. Mo Northwestern Monthly 

Ped. Sem Pedagogical Seminary 

Phil. Rev Philosophical Review 

Pop. Sc. Mo Popular Science Monthly 

Proc. Am. Assn. Adv. Sc Proceedings of the American Asso- 
ciation for the Advancement of Science 
6 



THE ABBREVIATIONS ^ 

Proc. Assn. of Phys. Ed Proceedings of the Association of 

Physical Education 

Proc. N. E. A Proceedings of the National Education Asso- 
ciation. 

Proc. Intern. Cong. Ed Proceedings of the International Con- 
gress of Education 

Psy. Rev Psychological Review 

Psy. Rev. Monograph Sup Physical Review Monograph Sup- 
plement 

Rept. of Com. of Ed Report of the Commissioner of Educa- 
tion 

Rept. of Supts. of Ed. of N. Y Report of the Superintendents 

of Education of New York 

Science, N. S Science, New Series 

Studies from Yale Psy. Lab Studies from Yale Psychological 

Laboratory 

Texas Academy of Sc Texas Academy of Science 

Trans. Am. Med. Assn Transactions of the American Medical 

Association 

Trans. Am. Phil, Assn Transactions of the American Philo- 
logical Association 

Trans. 111. Soc. C. S Transactions of the Illinois Society for 

Child Study 

U. of Cal. Studies University of California Studies 

West. Rev ... Westminster Review 



THE CHILD 

HIS THINKING, FEELING AND DOING 
CHAPTER I 

Introduction 

NATURALLY enough, children have always been 
objects of the greatest care and solicitude to 
society, and have always been observed and studied, 

as early educational theories show. Still, „^.,^ „^ ^ 

, .. Cnua-Stuay. 

while some systematic observation has its 

been done before, it has been left for our i^^portance. 
scientific age to attempt to reduce children, along 
with men, to the terms of a general formula. 

The importance of ascertaining the laws that govern 
the growth of the child's body and mind is apparent 
to the most superficial observer. Until we know 
how a child grows; whether he is of the average height 
and weight or not; whether he has the average control 
of his body or not; whether he shows signs of nervous- 
ness or not, we can know nothing of what the correct 
treatment for that child is. We may hit accident- 
ally upon it, but we are just as likely to leave the 
child to suffer from improper food or exercise or work. 
Similarly, until we know the general characteristics 
of each stage of mental development, we are unpre- 
pared to say what a child should study and how much 
he can do. We can not settle any of the questions 
concerning the courses of study, the order of subjects 

9 



lO THE CHILD 

and the mode of presenting a subject, except as we 
know the child-nature which we expect to develop 
by our education. 

Now there is a great body of facts about children, 
which has been obtained from the casual contact that 
we all have with them, and which is in some 
respects accurate and in others inaccurate. It is the 
object of systematic Child-Study to supplement and 
to correct these common ideas by a more careful study 
of the facts, and so to give a firmer foundation for 
educational theory and practice. 

In this study, two methods are possible, each of 
which may be pursued in two different ways: (i) We 
may study some individual child with great 
CMid°study ^^^'^ ^"^ detail, or (2) we may collect sta- 
tistics from large numbers of children. In 
both cases we may get our material simply from 
observing children, or experiment upon them by fixing 
certain conditions under which they shall act. 
• (i) Individual study has the decided advantage of 
accuracy in details. We become intimately acquainted 
with some one child, and learn to see the various fine 
shadings of his mind. We discern the gradually 
increasing complexity of his mental processes. We 
can see the close connection between mind and body 
in many details, and trace to their origin numerous 
quaint ideas and marked characteristics. In this way 
we can learn to deal with this one child so that we 
shall make comparatively few mistakes, even though 
our theoretical knowledge be not very wide. 

On the other hand, such a study fails us in many 
respects when we come to work with other children. 
We can not be certain which of this child's traits are 



INTRODUCTION I I 

peculiar to him or his family and which are common 
to all children of his age, nor can we be sure just what 
importance to attach to certain traits. We can not tell 
whether to ignore them because they will naturally be 
outgrown, or to repress them. 

(2) Statistical study aims to give just this sort of 
information. It collects data from large numbers of 
children of all ages, compares them, and finally is able 
to make a statement about certain characteristics of 
the great majority of children of each age. Such gen- 
eral statements, when based upon sufficient data, rest 
upon the same kind of foundation that the laws of 
any science do, and have the same authority. 

It is evident that such statistical study is strong 
where individual study is weak and, vice versa, is weak 
where individual study is strong. It lacks the detail 
and vividness of the individual study, but is more gen- 
erally true and is likely to be a safer guide when diffi- 
culties come up in treating the average child whom 
we have not had the opportunity to study. The two 
methods should, therefore, supplement each other. 
Each parent or teacher should get a perspective for 
himself by a knowledge of the general facts of child- 
nature, and then fill in details by a study of the Mary 
and Johnnie with whom she lives. 

This outline of child-nature is what Child-Study 
hopes to accomplish, but as yet the outline is frag- 
mentary. More observations have been 
made on the physical nature of the child chiid-study. 
than on anything else, but even here there 
is great divergence of opinion as to the meaning of 
the facts observed and as to their practical bearing. 
Good work has been done on small groups of children 



12 THE CHILD 

in observing most of the mental processes and some 
of the fornis of expression. From this we may get 
hints for an educational theory, but it is valuable so 
far principally in giving suggestions for further 
observations. 

If, therefore, few conclusions are reached in the 
study given here, it must be remembered that this is 
inevitable under present conditions. It is easy to form 
a theory if we have studied only a few children, but 
the more data we gather from large numbers of child- 
ren the more probable it seems that our present edu- 
cational theories must be considerably enlarged and 
altered before they will be applicable to most children. 

The object of this book is not, therefore, so much to 
offer conclusions, as to outline what has been done, to 
show breaks in the outline, and to point out places for 
future work. 

In pursuance of this object, the physical nature of 

the child, and its relation to his mental development, 

will be considered first. The study of his 
Plan. , , , . . . , -^ . 

mental growth, begmning with sensation 

and perception, through memory and imagination to 
thought, will follow. The treatment here will necessa- 
rily be inadequate in some respects. We shall then con- 
sider what little we know of the child's feelings and emo- 
tions; and finally trace the expression of his thoughts 
and feelings in his instinctive actions, in his speech 
and imitation, and in his play, drawing, and music. 

The teacher or leader of the class should start each 
member upon systematic observation of some child or 
group of children along one of the lines indicated in 
the observations at the beginning of each chapter. 
With this in view, it would be well to spend a part of 



INTRODUCTION 



13 



the first lesson in the reading and discussion of the 

suggestions, and in an apportionment of the subjects 

among the members of the class. Of course 

no one person will undertake observations J^i^^^tions to 
^ ^ tne student, 

upon all the subjects, unless he wishes 

to study but one child. In such a case, he would do 
well to get Miss Shinn's Biography of a Baby, or 
Preyer's Infa?it Mind, for more detailed accounts. 
Teachers usually find it better to take some one sub- 
ject, frame a syllabus, and get material from all the 
children in their room or school.* 

Even if such observation is continued only while the 
class is continued, it will serve to give point and sug- 
gestion to every chapter in the book, and in many 
cases it will lead to further study and to more sympa- 
thetic treatment of children. By far the most valuable 
part of the study is lost if observation is not under- 
taken for, after all, a book should but lead us on to 
a deeper understanding of life. The following direc- 
tions may assist those about to begin making obser- 
vations: 

/ Any parents or teachers who intend to keep a 
systematic record of one child, should get a fair-sized 
note-book, and enter in it the nationality Directions 
of the child,. the sex, and the exact date for 
(hour and day) of birth. Where statistics observation, 
are to be obtained from numbers of children, loose 
sheets of paper are more usable. Each sheet should 
have on it the nationality, sex and approximate age 

*In cases where either a detailed or a general study is taken 
up, if a more general use of the results is desired, the author will 
appreciate any data that are sent to her, and will give full acknow- 
ledgement of any use that she may make of them. She can be 
addressed in care of the publishers. 



lA THE CHILD 

of the child (within six months) at the time when the 
data were obtained. No names are necessary. 

2 In keeping the record, date each entry exactly 
and give the age of each child at the time of the event. 

J Record the event at the time when it occurred, if 
possible; if not possible, state how long a time elapsed 
before the entry was made. An entry made several 
days after the event has little value. 

4 Record the event minutely and exactly 



CHAPTER II 

Growth of the Body 

ALL weighing should be done on the nude child, 
and all measuring without his shoes on. 

1. Beginning with birth, keep a record of the 
changes in weight and height. For the first month, 
weigh and measure the baby every week; 

thence, to the end of the first year, every Observa- 

' J •< , tions, 

month; thence, every three or six months. 
There is very little material at present on changes 
between the first and the sixth year, and any parents 
who will keep such a record carefully will help to fill 
one of the gaps in the subject of Child-Study. 

2. If you do not undertake any systematic record, 
at least weigh and measure your children now and see 
how they compare with the average weight and height 
as shown in the tables. 

3. In some schools, it is possible for a teacher to get 
statistics as to the height and weight of each child in 
her room. Where she can not do so, she can usually 
get the height and weight of children who are peculiar, 
to see how they compare with the average height and 
weight as shown in the tables. 

4. In cases where children fall below the average, 
begin a little experimenting, if possible under a physi- 
cian's advice, with their food and work. Keep a 
record of the changes you make in the food and the 
work, and of the effect upon the children. 

15 



i6 



THE CHILD 



As our knowledge of the mind increases we see 
more and more the close inter-relation of mind and 

importance ^^^^^ ^"^ ^^ realize that in trying to 
of the understand the condition of either at any 

time, we must take into consideration the 



subject. 




Diagram i. Showing the Relative Proportions of the Body in Child 
AND Adult. (Langer.) 

effect of each upon the other. We have no right to 
expect the same mental work or the same moral 
standards from a child who is sick, or cold, or hungry, 
as from the one who is healthy, well-fed, and well-clad. 



fiiftOWTri OF THE BObV 



17 



The parent whose child is much below the average in 
growth, or in the control of his muscles, should be 
warned thereby to be on the watch for various mental 
or moral abnormalities. As there is no way of watch- 
ing a child's mind except as he reveals it through 
his movements, it becomes of great importance that we 
should understand at least a little of what his i;nove- 
ments signify. 

It is not uncommonly assumed that a child is simply 
a little man or woman. How untrue this is as to his 




Diagram 2. a. Unfertilized Human Ovum, Magnified 170 Diam. (Nagel.) 
b.c.d. Segmentation of the Ovum, Magnified 170 
Diam. (After von Beneden.) 

body, a glance at Diagram i reveals. A child who 
grew to manhood preserving his childish proportions 
would be a monstrosity. What is so evi- 
dently true of the body as a whole applies ^^^^ ''®"''' 
equally to details. The internal organs, 
the bones, blood, fat, marrow and nerves, all differ so 
materially from the adult's that when similar chemical 
structures are found in him, they are considered 
pathological. We can not, therefore, believe that a 
child can eat the same food, breathe the same air, 
wear the same clothing and take the same exercise as 
an adult, and obtain the highest degree of health. 

The human body consists at first of but a single cell, 
of the general shape and size shown in Diagram 2, 



l8 THE CHILD 

When the cell begins to grow, it increases in size and 
after a time divides into two. Each of these cells does 
the same, and so on, the entire mass of cells 
o/theb^?y^^ increasing in number and in size. When 
the organs of the body begin to form, the 
mode of growth changes. The cells no longer increase 
in number, but change their form, size, and relations 
to other cells. In the nervous system, the entire 
number of nerve cells is complete by the fifth month 
of foetal life. From this it has been hastily concluded 
that the effects of education must be very limited, 
since all that education can do, at the most, is to 
develop cells already existing. The incorrectness of 
such a conclusion is seen when we understand that 
there are millions of ner\'e cells undeveloped in even 
the most cultured adult. So far education seems to 
have developed some hundreds of thousands of cells. 
With millions still untouched, we need hardly fear any 
curtailment of educational functions for a longtime. 

Considering first the increase in weight from birth 
to adolescence, observations upon hundreds of thou- 
sands of children show that at birth the 
Weight. • 1 . r 1 • J r 

average weight ot a boy is 7.3 pounds; or 
a girl, 7.1 pounds. The boys' weights vary from 3 
pounds to 12 pounds, but 87 per cent of them weigh 
between 6 and 9 pounds. The weight of the girls 
comes within the limits of 4 and 11 pounds, with 85 
per cent between 6 and 9 pounds. The limits of 
safety, then, for both boys and girls seem to be 6 and 9 
pounds. 

By the end of the first year, a child's weight should 
have trebled. That is, an average boy should weigh 
21.9 pounds, and an average girl 21.3 pounds. 



GROWTH OF THE BODY 



19 



Effect 
of food. 



The effect of the child's food upon this first yc\'ir's 
f^rnwth is still a much disputed question. Camerer, a 
(jerman physician, observed that it seemed to make 
little difference whether the food was artificial or 
natural. He found that fifty-seven chil- 
dren fed upon mother's milk weighed less 
at the end of the first year than thirty-one 
others, lighter at birth, who had been nourished on 
artificial food. Many mothers believe that at any 
cost they must nurse their children, but this, seems, 
in many cases, to work a direct harm to the child. 
If the mother is not well, the milk may not contain 
all the necessary food-elements in the right propor- 
tions and the baby may actually starve. The advice 
of a good physician should be followed in all cases. 

By the sixth year, the average boy weighs 45.2 
pounds; the average girl, 43.4 pounds. Thence to the 
seventeenth year, the following table shows the weights 
in pounds, with ordinary indoor clothing. 



Burk's Table Showing Average Weight of 68,000 American 
Children in Boston, St, Louis, and Milwaukee 



Age 



16K 



Girls 



Average 
in lbs. 



45-2 
49-5 
54-5 
59-6 
65.4 
70.7 
76.9 
84.8 
95-2 
107.4 
121. o 



Annual 
Increase 



4-3 
5-0 
5-1 
5.8 
5.3 
6.2 

7-9 
10.4 
12.2 
13.6 



Per Cent 

of 
Increase 



9-5 
10. 1 

9-3 
9-7 



12.8 
12,7' 



Bovs 



Average 
in lbs. 



43 
47 
42 
57. 
62 

69 
78 
88 
98 
106 
112 



Annual 
Increase 



4-3 

4.8 
4.9 

5-5 
6.6 
9.2 
10. o 
9.6 
8.4 
5-6 



Percent 

of 
Increase 



9.9 
10. o 

9-3 
9.6 
10.5 
13.2 
12.7 
II. 9 
8.5 

5-2 



20 



THE CHILD 



Examination of this table will show that there is with 
boys a period of fairly rapid increase from 7>^ to lo^ 
years, then a slower rate to 13^^ years, and a still 
more rapid rate of growth from 13^ years on. The 
growth of girls is more steady, but still there are 
well-defined periods of acceleration from 7}^ to gy^ 
years and from I2}'2 to 14^ years. In general, girls 
weigh less than boys from birth on, except from the 
twelfth to the fourteenth years, when they weigh more. 

The average newborn boy measures 19.68 inches, 
with the extreme limits at 15 and 24 inches; the new- 
born girl 19.48 inches, with the limits at 
16 and 23 inches. The most rapid growth 
in height, as in weight, is in the first months of life. 
In the first month, a child adds something like 2% 
inches to his length and by the end of the first year, has 
increased from 7 to 8 inches. At the time of the first 
dentition Camerer observed a lessening of the rate of 
growth At the age of six years, the average boy 
measures 44. 10 inches, the average girl, 43.66 inches. 
Thence to the seventeenth year, their average heights 
in inches are shown in the following table.* 



Height. 



Years 


6 


7 


8 


9 


10 


II 


12 


13 

58.17 
58.75 


14 

61.08 
60.32 


15 

62.96 
61.39 


16 

65-58 
61.72 


17 


Boys 

Girls 


44-10 
43-66 


46.21 
45-94 


48.16 

48.07 


So. 09 
49-6i 


52.21 

51.78 


54.01 
53-79 


55-78 
57.16 


66.29 
61.99 



*These measurements were taken without shoes. As only 
American children are included in them, the measures are slightly 
larger than the average. The American-born child is slightly 
taller and heavier than the English, Irish, German or Scandina- 
vian child. No comparative measurements exist for other nation- 
alities. We should also note here that the periods of most rapid 
increase, both in height and in weight, are put from one to two 
years earlier by some writers. Doubtless food, nationality, and 
climate influence this. This table is taken from Bowditcb. 



GROWTH OF THE BODY 



21 



Here again we note a rhythm of much the same 
nature as that of the increase in weight. The boys, as 
a rule, are taller than the girls except between the years 
of twelve and fourteen. Their periods of growth are 
more sharply defined, and individuals^ differ from each 
other within wider limits The differences between 
individuals also increase with age. It is sometimes 
said that up to adolescence a child lives the race life; 
at adolescence, there is a strong development of 
family traits, and thereafter the child becomes more 
individual. 

The most marked fluctuations in growth occur 

between the years of six and nine for both boys and 

girls, and again between eleven and thirteen 

for girls, and fourteen and sixteen for ^^y^^^is of 
, . growtli and 

boys. The first period is closely connected other 

with the getting of the second teeth, and changes, 
with the fact that at this time the brain is rapidly 
developing fibers of connection between its various 
parts. On account of this brain growth, there is 
usually a marked mental change in each child. He has 
more interests, he plays more kinds of games, and he 
has a wider range of friends than before. The second 
change is the accompaniment of puberty and will be 
considered later. 

It is most interesting to notice that, taking into con- 
sideration all the observations made, periods of rapid 
growth in height precede periods of rapid Relations 
growth in weight, although this is not between 
so marked with girls as with boys. This SiJ^and 
is true not only of the larger periods in weight, 
of which we have spoken, but of shorter ones as 
well. 



22 THE CHILD 

R. Malling-Hansen of Copenhagen, made observa- 
tions upon seventy boys from seven to fifteen years of 
Shorter "^^^^ ^*^'* ^ period of two years, to find out 

rhytiims what rhythms of growth occur within the 

ofgrowth. ^^^^1^. ^l ^^^ ^^^^j. p^^ f^^j^^l ^^^^^ ^^.jj 

marked both in height and in weight. The period of 
most rapid growth in weight is from August to Decem- 
ber; of average growth, from December to the end 
of April, and of least growth from April to August. 
Conversely, the greatest increase in height, is from 
April to August, and the least from August to De- 
cember. 

Within each month he observed rhythmical alterna- 
tions, a period of growth of perhaps fifteen days alter- 
nating with one of comparative rest. He also found 
a similar rhythm within the week; and noticed that 
during the day children increase in weight and 
decrease in height, while during the night the converse 
is true. Heat and light seem to accelerate increase in 
weight. Camerer corroborates Malling-Hansen in 
most of his observations; and Vierordt and Fleisch- 
mann also corroborate the weekly rhythms. 

None of these observers has dealt with large num- 
bers of children, and therefore we need further data 
before we can be sure that these rhythms are universal; 
but the various observers agree as far as they have 
gone, and there seems to be no good reason a priori 
why the facts should not be generally true 

When we consider the growth of the various organs 
of the body, and of the skeleton, muscles and nervous 
system, the ost striking fact is that it is irregular. 
At any given time, certain parts will be developing 
rapidly, and others slowly. The details of this growth 



GROWTH OF THE BODY 



23 



are much too complex to be given here, and their mean- 
ing is not yet understood. It need only be stated 

that at adolescence the heart and luno's, as 

,, , , . ^ Growth of 

well as the reproductive organs, are grow- different 

ins^ very rapidly, and that between seven parts of the 

^ • \u u • - ^ 1 • ^°dy- 

and nine the brain is developing numerous 

fibers of connection, although it is increasing little if 

any in size. 

Vierordt's Table, Showing the Relative Growth of Various 
Parts of the Body, Counting Size at Birth as 100. 



Length of head 

Upper part of head 

Length of face 

From chin to upper end of breastbone 

Breastbone 

Abdomen 

Leg 

Height of foot 

Upper arm 

Forearm 



Birth 


End OF 


7/8 




21 Mos. 


Yrs. 


100 


150 


191-7 


TOO 


114 


150 


TOO 


200 


250 


100 


500 


700 


TOO 


186 


300 


TOO 


160 


240 


100 


200 


455 


TOO 


150 


300 


100 


183 


328 


TOO 


182 


322 



Adult 



200 

157 
260 
goo 

314 
260 
472 
450 
350 
350 



It goes without saying that a child that is well fed 

will be taller and heavier than he would be if he went 

hungry, but there is another and erroneous 

idea connected with this. We often assume ?=®*5'*i°?j5 

size to food. 

that, any well-fed child will be taller and 
heavier than any poorly fed one. This is not so. 
Size depends, not only upon good nutrition, but also 
upon nationality, climate and family. There seems 
to be a certain size for each individual, which his body 
will strive desperately to reach even undt he most 
unfavorable conditions, but which it is not. likely to 
exceed under any circumstances. In this struggle, 



24 



THE CHILD 



disease or insufficient food before the age of six has 
the most permanently bad effects. After that time, 
any drawbacks will retard growth temporarily, but 
will be followed by an unusually rapid growth. A 
child who has had good health up to the sixth year 
has an excellent start in life. 

Bowditch's Tenth Report seems to show conclusively 
that children of the poorer classes are lighter and 
shorter than those of the well-to-do, though the differ- 
ences are small. All observers find that the profes- 
sional classes are, at any given age, taller and heavier 
than the laboring classes. This is true in England, 
Germany, Denmark and Sweden. 

The rate of growth, however, does not seem to be 
markedly different; that is, the poor child grows as 
rapidly as the rich, but is shorter and lighter to begin 
with. This seems to indicate that the embryonic and 
early conditions of nutrition are the most important 
for absolute weights and heights. 

Exactly what importance should be assigned in 
growth to food, race and climate, is still unsettled. 
Americans are taller and heavier than other national- 
ities, but this is not due exclusively to race, for an 
Irish-American or German-American recruit is taller 
and heavier than his brother in the old country. Food 
and climate evidently have considerable influence here. 

It is significant that idiots and imbeciles are always 
shorter and lighter than normal persons; but on the 
Relation of other hand, we must not forget that men of 
size to men- talent, if not of genius, are not infrequent- 
tai ability. |^ small. We can not maintain that men 
below a given height and weight are stupid, any more 
than we can hold that size has no relation whatever to 



GROWTH OF THE BODY 2 C 

mental ability. The case should probably be stated 
thus: Any child who falls much below the size of other 
members of his family at the same age, is also likely 
to fall below them in intelligence. A more direct 
relation between mind and body is given in bodily 
control, which we shall consider later. 

In view of the well marked rhythms of growth, the 
question at once arises as to their bearing upon educa- 
tion. Should the child, while growing rapid- „ ., 
, , , , , *^ s F Periods of 

ly, have more or less school work? Should growth and 
we stimulate him or quiet him? The most education, 
diverse answers have been given to these questions. 
The chief conflict has raged about the proper treat- 
ment of the adolescent boy and girl. We find some 
physicians declaring that girls from twelve to fourteen 
years old, should be taken out of school entirely and 
boys from fourteen to sixteen years old given much 
less mental work to do. Many educators, on the other 
hand, claim that this is the time when permanent 
interests in all subjects must be established. *The 
child now lives in a new world— one of ideals — and 
we must introduce him as speedily as may be to 
the best in literature, history, science, art, music, 
religion and everything that goes to make up our com- 
plex life. 

We may perhaps untangle a few of the threads from 
this knotted skein by comparing the periods of greatest 

susceptibility to disease with those of ado- „ , . 

1 T^ T- Ti/r TT ... Relation of 

lescence. Dr. E. M. Hartwell of Boston age to 

has made tables based on the mortality ^^^^^se. 

returns of Boston for 1875, 1885 and 1890. He finds 

that specific life-intensity, that is, ability to resist 

disease, varies as follows: 



26 



THE CHILD 



Age 



5- 6 

6- 7 

7- 8 

8- 9 
9-IO 

lO-II 
II-I2 

12-13 

13-14 
14-15 

15-16 



Per Cent of 
Increase 
IN Weight 



Girls 



4.00 
4.08 
4-58 
3-72 
3.98 
4.06 
4-56 
4.08 
3. II 
1.90 
•77 



Boys 



Specific Life- 
Intensity 



Girls 



60 08 
69-5 
103.8 
123.2 
195.4 
191. 2 
309.0 
232.0 
162.0 

171.3 
169.3 



Boys 



67-3 
74-5 
106.8 
164.0 
134.8 
209.3 
233.2 
290.1 
238.7 
250.1 
188.1 



Per Cent of 
Increase 
IN Height 



Girls 



9.69 

8.83 

10.68 

9.26 

10.24 

13.78 

13.23 

10.94 

7.83 

5.61 



Boys 



10.24 

8.78 
9.86 

9-79 
10.40 

7-43 
9-74 
10 31 
11.66 
13.02 
12.96 



According to this table, girls from 11 to 12 years old 
and boys from 12 to 13 years old are better able to 
resist disease than at any other time, although the 
increase in power of resistance is not so marked with 
boys as with girls. The entire period from 9 to 13 for 
girls and from 10 to 15 for boys is the time of greatest 
resistance to disease, while the period after 13 for girls 
and 15 for boys is one of less power of resistance than 
the 5^ears immediately preceding. To state it in other 
terms, the period immediately preceding adolescence 
is the healthiest time of life; while adolescence itself 
falls short of this period but exceeds the period before 
the ninth year. 

Other statistics, on the other hand, seem to indicate 
that the maximum resistance to disease comes some- 
what later, when the boy or girl has practically 'fin- 
ished growing in height and is making great gains in 
weight. This would seem to argue that the ado- 
lescent can endure a reasonable amount of work with- 
out harm. 



GROWTH OF THE BODY 



27 



We need, however, more statistics which shall cor- 
relate in the same children increase in height, weight 
and resistance to disease, before we can safely draw 
conclusions. 

Throughout this account we have given only aver- 
ages; we have been able to say only "between certain 
ages," or "at about this age;" that is, the Necessityof 
order of growth is nearly the same for individual 
all children, but any particular child may ^*^^y- 
be more or less advanced than another at the same age. 
One child of nine years may be like another of seven, 
or like another of eleven. Each parent and each teacher 
must find out how much the children for whom he is 
responsible vary from the average, and modify his treat- 
ment of them accordingly. We should be at least as 
careful to fit a child with inoital garments as we are 
to provide proper clothing for his body. The sys- 
tem of grades in school is well calculated to turn out 
children all of the same pattern, regardless of their 
natural variations, and so each parent should be espe- 
cially careful to see that the individual mental needs 
of his own children are provided for. 

In conclusion: In the newborn child, all the ele- 
ments of the future man are present in germ, but edu- 
cation decides which factors are to grow and 
which are to atrophy. In the first years of Conclusion. 
life growth of all parts of the body is far 
more rapid than at any other time, and educational, 
that is, environmental influences, are most potent. 
There are at least two well-marked periods of growth 
in height and in weight with both boys and girls, of 
which the first is connected with the second dentition 
and the second with the setting in of puberty. In- 



2$ THE CHILIS 

crease in height precedes increase in weight, and 
increase in weight is accompanied by increased resist- 
ance to disease, and is probably the time when mental 
work can be done to the best advantage. Size and 
mental ability have, not a direct, but an indirect 
relation to each other, varying with the family, climate 
and food. Any given child must be studied not only 
in comparison with other children of the same age, but 
also in comparison especially with others of his own 
family. We need not only general laws for all chil- 
dren, but also for children of this or that family, just as 
we have laws for species of flowers in addition to those 
for the genera. 

REFERENCES 

Allen, Mary E. Physical Development of Women and Children. 

Proc. Ass7i. of Phys. Ed., 1890, 9-21. 
Bailey, J. How to Teach Babies, L. Hughes, $0.60. 
Beebe. Motor and Sensory Children. C. S. M., Ill, 14. 
Boyer, H. G. Influence of Exercise on Growth. Am. Phys. 
Edtic. Rev., Sept. and Dec, 1896. 
Normal Growth and Development under Systematized Exer- 
cise. Rep. of Chief of Bureau of Medicine and Siirgery 
to Sec'y of Navy, 1893, 141-160. 
Boas, F. On Porter's Investigations. Science, Nov. i, 1895. 

On Growth of First-born Children. Science, N. S., I., 402- 

404. 
Form of Head as Influenced by Growth. Science, N. S., IV, 

50-51. 
Growth of Toronto Children. Rep. of Com. of Ed., 1896-7, 

1541-1599- 
Anthropological Investigations in Schools— Their Importance. 

Science, 1891, 225-228. 
Growth of Children. Science, N. S. , V, 570-573. 
Bowditch, H. P. Growth with Reference to Disease. Trans. 
Am. Med. Assn., XXXII, 376. 
Growth studied by Galton's Percentile Grades. 22d Rep. 



GROWTH OF THE BODY ^A 

Mass. Board of Health. (Rearrangement of previous 

material. ) 
Growth of Children. Eighth An. Kept, of Mass. State 

Board of Health. Also Tenth An. Kept, of Mass. State 

Board of Health. (Supplements eighth with reference to 

effect of race and mode of life.) 
Bryan, W. L. Development of Voluntary Motor Ability. A7n. 

Joiir. Psy., Nov., 1892, 125-204. 
Bryan, E. B. Nascent Stages and Their Significance. Fed. Sem., 

igoo, 357-396. (Detailed work for different ages.) 
Burk, Frederick. Growth of Children in Height and Weight. 

Am. four. Psy., IX, 253-326. 
From Fundamental to Accessory in Development of Nervous 

System of Movement. Ped. Sent., VI, 5-64. 
(Excellent articles. Summarize much previous work.) 
Burnham, W. H, Hygiene of Schools. Ped. Sem., 1892, 9-71. 

(Very complete.) 
Camerer, W. Untersuchungen liber Massenwachsthum und 

Langenwachsthum. f. fur Kinder heitskunde, Bd, 336, 

249-293. (Most important contribution on infantile growth, 

up to 1898.) 
Carven, A. Pain and Strength Measurements of 1507 School 

Children, Ain. four. Psy., 1899, 392-398. 
Gushing, F. H. Manual Concepts: Study .of the Influence of 

Hand Usage upon Culture Growth. Ain. [our. Anthrop., 

V, 289-317. 
Dawson, G. E. Children's Interest in the Bible. Ped. Sem., V, 

43. (Summary of facts of growth.) 
Donaldson, H. H. Gro^vth of the Brain. N.Y. Scribner's, $1.50. 
Du Bois, Raymond. Physiology of Exercise. Pop. Sc. Mo., XXI, 

317-331. 333-433- 
Elliot, S. B. Prenatal Culture. Arena, IX, 1895-1894, 417-426; 

X, 306-316, 668-676. (Extreme.) 
Galton, Francis. Growth. Rep. of Anthropometric Com. of 

British Assn., J., 1883. 
Height and Weight of Boys of 14 Years. Jour, of Atithrop. 

Inst, of G. B. and Ireland, V, 173-180. 
Hereditary Stature. Do. above, 488-499. Summary of these 

in Rep. Com. of Educ., 1895-1896, 1175-1198. 
Hereditary Genius, L. Macmillan, ^2.50. 



3^ 



THE CHILC 



Natural Inheritance, L. Macmillan, $2.00. 
Principles and Methods of Assigning Marks for Bodily 
Efficiency. Nature, Oct. 3, 1889. 
Gilbert, J. A. Researches on School Children and College Stu- 
dents. U. of Iowa Studies in Psy., I, 1-39. 
Greenwood, J. M. Height and Weight of Children. Rep. of Board 

of Ed. of Kansas City, 1890-91, 45-56. 
Hall, W. S. First 500 days of a Child's Life. C. S. M., Vol. 
n, 1897. 
Changes in Proportions of Body in Growth, f. of A7ithrop. 
hist, of G. B. and Ire., Vol. XXV. 21-46. 
Halleck, Reuben Post. Education of the Motor Centers. Trans. 

III. S.C 5., HI., 46. 

Education of the Central Nervous System. N. Y. Macmillan, 

$1.00. 
Hancock, J. A. Preliminary Study of Motor Ability. Fed. Sein., 

1894, 9-29. (Good.) 
Hawkins, C. Physical Measurements of Public School Boys. 

y. of Ed., 1891, 35-41, 187-190. 
Holt, L. Emmett. Care and Fee di7ig of Children. N. Y. Apple- 
ton, $0.50. 
Hrdlicka, A. Anthropological Investigations on 1000 Chil- 

dred. White a7id Colored. N. Y. Wynkoop Hollenbeck 

Crawford Co. 
Key, Axel. School Life in Relation to Health and Growth. 
Kingsley, Charles. Health and Education. N. Y. Appleton, 

$1.75. (Written about 1874; not valuable.) 
Kirkpatrick, E. A. Development of Voluntary Movement. Fsy. 

Rev., 1899, 6 pp. (Nativistic theory of perception.) 
Krohn, Wm. Habitual Postures of Children. C. S. M., I, 114. 
Lander, B. J. Posture and Its Indications. Pop. Sc. Mo., XLII, 

26-34. (Describes some common characteristic postures of 

disease.) 
Lindlay, E. H. Some Motor Phenomena of Mental Effort. Ain. 

Jour. Fsy., July, 1896, 491-517. 
Mackenzie, R. T. Place of Physical Training in a School System. 

Montreal Med. Jour., 1900, 30-36. 
MacNamara, N. C. Human Brain in Relation to Education. 

West. Rev., 1900, 634-640. 
Mosher, Eliza M. Habitual Postures of Children. Educ. Rev., 

IV, (10 pp.). 



GROWTH OF THE BODY 



31 



Oppenheim, N. Development of the Child, N.Y. Macmillan, $1.25. 
O'Shea, M. V. Discussion on Children's Physical Development. 

Proc. N. E. A., 1897, 598. 
Peckham. Growth of Children. Sixth Annual Rep. of State 

Board of Health of Wis., 28-73. 
Porter, W. S. Physical Basis of Precocity and Dullness. Trans. 

Am. Acad. So. at St. Louis, Vol. VI, 161 -181. Also Am. 

Phys. Ed. Rev., Vol. II, 155-173, same article. 
Growth of St. Louis Children, 263-380. 
Posse. Nils, Special Kinesiology of Educatiojial Gymnastics. 

Boston. Lee, $3.00. 
Roberts, C. Mamial of Anthropometry. L. Churchill, $1.50. 

(Most complete treatment in English of growth measure- 
ments.) 
Rowe, S. H. Physical Nature of the Child and How to Study 

It. N. Y. Macmillan, $1.00. (Simple and accurate.) 
Scripture, E. W. Education of Muscular Control and Power. 

Studies fro?n Yale Psy. Lad., II. 
Seguin, E. Prenatal and Infantile Culture. Pop. Sc. Mo., X, 

38-43. 
Shaw, E. R. Observations on Teaching Children to Write. 

C S. M., I, 226. 
Smedley, F. W. Report on Child-Study Iiivestigation. Chicago 

Board of Education. 
Telford-Smith, T. Scientific Study of Mental and Physical Con- 
ditions of Childhood. Pediatrics, i%q-}, 2)'i-l-2>-2i. 
Tucker, M. A. Involuntary Movements. Am. four. Psy., 

VIII, 394. 
Warner, Francis. Physical and Mental Condition Among Fifty 

Thousand Children. /. Roy, Stat. Soc, 1896, 125-128. 

(The basis of most other work of this sort.) Sufn. in Rep. 

Com. of Ed., 1895-6, 1 175. 
Study of Children. Nervous System of the Child. N. Y. 

Macmillan. Each, $1.00. (Both works cover much the same 

ground; very diffuse.) 
West. Relation of Physical Development to Intellectual Ability. 

Sciettce, N. S., IV, 156-159. 
Wissler, Clark. Correlation of Mental and Physical Feats. Psy. 

Rev. Monograph Sup., Vol. Ill, No. 6. , 

3 



CHAPTER III 

Abnormal Bodily Conditions 

SINCE the connection between the sound mind and 
the sound body is as close as the last chapters 
have shown, it is of great importance for all who have 
introduc- charge of children to know some of the 
tion, more common symptoms of disease. Exam- 

inations, made in recent years, of the eyes and ears 
of school children show that to a most appalling 
degree parents and teachers have considered children 
stupid, obstinate, and bad who are only partially deaf 
or blind. In the minds of physicians there can be 
little doubt that many other cases of supposed innate 
wickedness or laziness are in reality cases of some form 
of nervous derangement. 

What we shall do, therefore, in this chapter is to 
describe some of the symptoms which should put par- 
ents on their guard and set them to watching the child 
in question more carefully, with a view to consult- 
ing with a physician should the doubtful symptoms 
persist. It should be well understood that such obser- 
vations as the parent and teacher can make are only 
preliminary to the physician's examination, and that 
it is unsafe for a tyro to adopt on his own responsibility 
any course of treatment. The object is not to get rid 
of the physician, but to save children from the suffer- 
ing due to the neglect of unhealthy conditions which 
arise from our inability to know when they exist. We 

32 



ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS 



33 



wish to sharpen our eyes to see wrong conditions so 
that they may be more speedily relieved. 

First should be considered the senses of sight and 
hearing. The eye and the ear are the principal chan- 
nels through which our knowledge comes, 

and if either of them is defective, the child ??Jf"!J^ 

' senses. 

is seriously hampered in all his work. He 
himself is not likely to know whether his eyes and ears 
are perfect, unless they pain him, for he is accustomed 
to his condition, and naturally supposes it to be like 
every one else's. We older people must therefore 
watch over him. 

For defective eyesight, notice the position of each 
child when reading or writing at his seat. His eyes 
should be about one foot from his book or paper. If 
the distance varies much from this, he should be given 
special tests as follows: 

Nearsight (myopia). Use Snellen's type test card* 
for this, having the child read the various lines of type 
at the distances indicated on the card. If he can not 
see them at those distances, he is shortsighted and 
should be taken to an oculist for more careful tests. 
In reading the type, one eye should be used at a 
time, the other being left open, but covered by a piece 
of cardboard. 

Farsight (hyperopia). This may be roughly tested 
by holding a dime two feet before the eyes. If the 
eyes, in looking at it, turn inwards in a squint, there 
is probably farsight. It is sometimes supposed that 
a farsighted eye does not need glasses as much as a 
nearsighted one, because objects are plainly seen. 

*This can be obtained from any dealer in optical supplies. It 
costs from lo to 35 cents. 



34 



THE CHILD 



This is a mistake. The farsighted eye is under a con- 
stant strain in adjusting itself to see any object clearly, 
and this strain if neglected causes headache and 
nervousness. 

Astigmatism may be tested by the radiating lines 
shown on Snellen's test card. If these lines look 
markedly different, there is some astigmatism. 




A B 

Diagram j. Showing Change in Nerve Cells Due to Age: A^ Spinal 
Ganglion Cells of a Still-Born Male Child; B, Same of a Man 
Dying AT Ninety-two; n, Nuclei. Magnified 250 Diam. (Hodge.) 



The ordinary test for hearing is given by means of a 
watch. First see how far a person whose hearing is 
normal can hear the watch that is to be used. Then 
test the child with his eyes closed, in a quiet room. 
We may suspect deafness if a child seems dull or inat- 
tentive, and constantly asks to have things repeated. 
Not infrequently growths form in the nose, and the 
tonsils enlarge, causing a deafness that is easily cured. 

In all these cases, the tests are only to ascertain 
whether a physician's care is needed. The teacher 
can give a child a front seat if he is deaf, or a well- 



ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS 



35 





lighted seat if his eyesight is poor, hut such measures 

are of little use unless curative treatment is also given. 

When any part of the body is working, „ ^. 

■^ ^ . . . ' ^ Fatigue: Its 

the cells of which it consists are used up; cause and 
their structure is changed and new sub- significance, 
stances, some of them poisonous in nature, are formed. 
The nerv(i cells decrease in size and some of their 
connections with other nerve cells are 
temporarily broken. (See Diagrams 3 
and 4.) 

If work is continued, the change or 
tearing down of the cell goes on faster 
than material to rebuild it can be fur- 
nished by the blood; the waste material 
or poison is left in part about the cell, 
instead of being carried off to the excre- 
tory organs, and in small part is absorbed 
by other parts of the body through which 
the blood passes. We then have the con- 
dition known as fatigue. 

It is evident that fatigue must follow 
as the result of use of any part of the 
body, and as exercise is one of the con- 
ditions of growth, it is also evident 
that fatigue is not, by itself, an unhealthy 
condition. When it sets in, we know 
that our expenditure is beginning to 
exceed our income, and while we may 
borrow and live for a time on our reserve 
in the bank of health, it behooves 
us to not overdraw. No disease is so 
difificult to recover from entirely as ner- 
vous exhaustion. 






Diagram 4. 
Showing Change 
IN THE Nucleus of 
A Frog's Nerve 
Cell During 
Seven Hours Con- 
tinuous Electri- 
cal Stimulation. 
(Hodge.) 



36 



THE CHILD 



The amount of work which causes fatigue has been 
the subject of careful experiment, so far as fatigue of 
the muscles is concerned, and of wide- 
of'f ^^"^^^^^ spread, though not so scientific, observations 
on mental fatigue. It has been found that 
in the exercise of any muscle fatigue begins to show 
after ten or fifteen seconds in a lowering of the rate of 
movement. After ten or fifteen minutes, the reduc- 
tion is considerable, but is slower afterwards. There 
is also a phenomenon comparable to the second wind 
in running. A muscle can be exercised to the point 
where the utmost effort of the will is hardly enough to 
raise the rate perceptibly. If, nevertheless, one con- 
tinues to move it as much as is possible, it will, after a 
short time, recover in part its original freshness and 
move almost as rapidly and as easily as at first. This 
will happen ten or fifteen times before permanent 
fatigue ensues. 

It is still open to question how far exercise of any 
one set of muscles wearies the entire body. It does 
so to some extent, doubtless, because the poisons 
given off by the muscles in use are taken up by the 
blood and partially absorbed by those parts of the 
body through which the blood passes. It seems likely 
that exercise of the right hand wearies the left hand 
to some degree. Many insist that the left side of the 
body is more developed than it would be as the 
result of its own exercise, and that this is due to the 
reaction upon it of the exencise of the right side. 

In mental fatigue, as in physical, the immediate 
condition is the tearing down of the nervous structures 
more rapidly than they are being built up, but a 
great variety of causes may lead to this condition. 



ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS 



37 



Prominent among them are: Overwork; too long 
hours of work and too much to do in those hours; 
excessive worry over a reasonable amount conditions 
of work; wasteful methods of work; not of mental 
enough work or not enough variety in it; ^^^^sue. 
a nervous system so much below par that it can not 
do even a rational amount of work. 

There has been of late years a great outcry against 
the public schools on the charge of overwork. It is 
claimed that they are fast reducing our overwork in 
children and youth to nervous wrecks and the public 
that this is true not only of Americans but schools, 
of English and Germans as well. The nervousness of 
children increases in direct ratio to the number of 
years that they are in school. Their weight and appe- 
tite diminish from the beginning of the school year to 
the end, especially just before examinations. They 
have nightmares, grinding of the teeth and tremors 
even where they have no well-defined nervous disease. 

All these things seem to many physicians the direct 
result of too much study. In many schools, children 
even as young as nine years are expected to do some 
home study, and from that age on the amount of it 
increases constantly. 

On the other hand, the demand is constantly made 
by superintendents and parents that this or that new 
study shall be introduced into school. The trades-unions 
want manual training; the mothers want music and 
drawing; the colleges demand languages and science. 
And yet children leave school with the merest smatter- 
ing of each subject and without knowing how to write 
a letter correctly. Is the rising generation stupid that 
it gets nervous exhaustion in learning nothing? 



38 



THE CHILD 



This leads directly to the claim made by many 
observant parents and teachers that the undeniably 
Overworry ^^^ nervous condition of many children is 
not over- not so much due to the amount that they are 
^^^ ' expected to learn as to the conditions under 

which they work. These bad conditions may be either 
physical or mental. Under mental conditions-must be 
included such things as Fear — fear of the teacher's 
displeasure and of not passing examinations — and 
Rivalries — the intense desire for good marks, the con- 
sequent worry over inability to prepare a lesson, and 
the intense chagrin at failures in recitation or exam- 
ination. Such conditions are thoroughly artificial and 
the combined efforts of teachers and parents should be 
directed towards removing them. Children should feel 
that they are in school primarily to learn, not to show 
off, and that a confession of ignorance after an honest 
attempt to get knowledge is not a disgrace. A give 
and take among the pupils in helping each other can 
also be established in any school and family, to replace 
the rivalries and fears of the other system and to 
remove one of the great sources of worry. 

Not uncommonly we find that a child who seems to 
be up to the average in brightness takes two or three 
Wasteful times as long to prepare a lesson as 
methods of another child. This maybe due to bad 
study. nervous conditions, which we shall con- 

sider soon, or to ignorance of how to study. In the 
latter case, we find that the eyes are constantly wan- 
dering from the book, and that there are frequent 
lapses into day dreams. Even when there is a fair 
amount of interest in the subject of study, there seems 
to be an inability to think about one thing for more 



ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS 



39 



than a few minutes. The best thin^- to do with such a 
child is to study with him for a time, showing him how 
to look for important points and how to connect them 
with other things that he knows. Under our present 
school conditions, this is especially the work of the 
parents. Under ideal conditions, it might be the work 
of the teacher, but now she has no time in her day 
when such work can be done. 

Certain patient German observers experimented upon 
school children by giving them columns of figures to 
add for two hours, or copying to do for the 

same length of time. They found such an Monotony 

^ . , ' of work, 

appalling increase in the number of mis- 
takes made by the end of the second hour that they 
forthwith concluded that our schools should all be 
closed or in ten years no children would be left alive. 
However, they made the fundamental mistake of sup- 
posing that two hours made up of a variety of subjects 
would be as fatiguing as two hours of one subject. 
As a matter of fact, variety, while not a complete rest, 
is a partial rest, and should be carefully observed in 
making out a school program or in planning a day's 
work for a child. It is believed that the best hours of 
work are from nine to eleven; the next best from three 
to four; and the poorest from eleven to twelve. If we 
considered this in connection with the requirement of 
variety, we should have a day's program in which the 
most difficult subjects were put from nine to eleven; 
from eleven to twelve an hour should be given to sub- 
jects much less taxing, like drawing, which also gives 
some of the relief of handwork after the hard mental 
work. In the afternoon, the order would be reversed, 
the easy subjects first, and the more difficult ones later. 



40 



THE CHILD 



In the demand for variety we find still another argu- 
ment for handwork, drawing, and music. If any part 
of the body is left unused for any length of time, there 
is an irritability, a cry for exercise from the neglected 
organ. If only one or a few parts of the brain are 
used, they are over-exercised and other parts are not 
exercised enough. The result is excessive weariness 
on one side, and an almost uncontrollable desire for 
activity on the other. A child brought up in but one 
line of thought and action is nearly sure to go to 
extremes in other directions as soon as the external 
repression is removed. To get a balanced, controlled 
character, we must cultivate a variety of interests in 
thought and in action. 

Finally, lack of interest is perhaps the most power- 
ful single factor in producing mental fatigue. The 
horrible weariness, the indescribable sense 
Interest. of imprisonment to which a child is sub- 

jected who is forced to a study which he 
does not like, is something that we grown-ups will not 
ourselves endure at all. While I do not think that 
the school should be a caterer to the passing fancies 
of its pupils, I do believe that a better arrangement of 
our curriculum, and wiser and more individual 
methods of teaching would reveal many interests in 
children which now we do not suspect them of having. 
A closer connection of the school with the life of the 
home and the village or city and a stronger appeal 
to the children's love of doing would accomplish 
much. 

It seems probable, then, upon consideration of the 
various causes of mental fatigue, that if the conditions 
for work were improved by removing causes for worry, 



ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS 



4t 



by inculcating correct habits of study and by arranging 
the curriculum so that it should appeal to natural, 
permanent, and valuable interests, fatigue would 
not be as prevalent among school children as it now 
is. This is true in schools where these changes have 
been made, and in less time, more work is done with 
more lasting effects than under other conditions. The 
plea that we should make, therefore, is not for a shorter 
school day, but for a different one— one full of inter- 
esting work and free from worries. 

Besides these bad mental conditions, there are cer- 
tain physical causes of fatigue which are easily reme- 
died and vet are commonlv neglected. The 

, Physical cau- 
first of these is bad air both at home and sesof mental 

at school. Why is it that the American, fatigue. 

,, , , A • • 1- Bad air. 

even the well-educated American, is so 

insensitive to the need of pure air? Is it because he 
breathes badly and has his sense of smell dulled by 
catarrh? There must be some other explanation than 
that of ignorance, for the air even of most homes is not 
pure, and it is rare indeed to go into a schoolroom 
where the air is not impure. Many a sensible, well- 
educated man and woman goes to bed night after 
night with closed doors and windows, and many a 
house-keeper, exemplary in other respects, never 
feels the need of throwing the house open to the air 
and sun. 

The simplest test for pure air is that the air in a 
room shall smell fresh upon coming in from outdoors. 
Even in winter time this is easy to secure. Have 
boards about four inches wide fitted into the bottom of 
the window casings, and let the windows rest on them 
instead of closing down. This secures a current of air 



42 



THE CHILD 



at the top, between the two sashes, and ventilates an 
ordinary living or sleeping room. There is usually no 
reason why a window should not be open an inch or 
two in a bed-room at night, even in the coldest weather; 
but if that demands too much courage, at least the 
door can be open and a window in some other part 
of the house opened to lead to a circulation of the air. 

In the schoolroom there is usually an inadequate 
system of ventilation. Architects do not consider, in 
their estimate of the necessary supply of air, the 
amount that is befouled by the bodies and clothes of 
the pupils. They consider only the nice, clean, 
healthy child, who is, in the city at any rate, the 
exception. As a result, the air in most schools is 
heavy from the first half hour after school opens to the 
end of the day. Then the janitor locks in the bad air 
to be used again the next morning. 

Supplement this defective ventilation by opening 
windows at every recess and noon, and see to It that 
the room is thoroughly aired at night. If the room is 
made too cold for the pupils by this constant airing, 
warm them by some vigorous gymnastics, and particu- 
larly by breathing exercises. The fresh, invigorating 
oxygen will soon reconcile them to the slightly lowered 
temperature. 

The great importance of the air supply lies in the 
fact that air that has once been breathed is deficient 
in oxygen, which is one of the most important constit- 
uents in building up nervous and muscular tissue. A 
person who breathes impure air five or six hours a day 
soon feels dull all the time. He can not think clearly 
or rapidly because the brain-centers are not properly 
fed, and his stupidity may become permanent. His 



ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS 



43 



resistance to disease is lessened and he is subject to 

headaches and numerous minor evils. Therefore in 

order to ward off fatigue and its consequent nervous 

conditions, cultivate in children deep breathing and its 

accompanying love of pure air. 

Habitual postures are now recognized as the cause 

of much fatigue and even of actual disease, particularly 

of various forms of curvature of the spine. 

2. Bad seats. 
Twenty to thirty per cent of high-school 

children have curvatures of the spine as the result of 

improperly made seats. 

The most healthy posture in standing and sitting is, 
presumably, the symmetrical one, in which both halves 
of the body have the same position, because then the 
muscles on the tw^o sides will be used alike, and all 
strain will be equally distributed. Variations from such 
a position should be compensated by the two sides 
alternating in the unsymmetrical position. 

The best position in lying is still a matter of dispute. 
Some maintain that the symmetrical position here also 
is the best, the person lying either on back or abdomen. 
Others claim that lying on the back keeps the spinal 
cord unduly heated and irritable, while lying on the 
abdomen compresses both stomach and lungs. They 
therefore advocate a position on either the right or left 
side. The truth of the case probably is that the best 
position for each individual will depend somewhat upon 
his bodily characteristics. There can be no question, 
however, but that lying on the back or abdomen allows 
the most complete muscular relaxation, and it seems 
doubtful whether there is any real harm done to spinal 
cord, or stomach, or lungs, provided they were in good 
condition at the start. 



44 



THE CHILD 



Practically all physicians agree that in order to be 
both comfortably and correctly seated, there must be 
certain relations between the size and shape of the seat 
and the person. The height of the seat should be the 
same as the length of the leg, measured from the under 
side of the bent knee to the sole; the depth from front 
to back of the seat should be only enough so that the 
entire back can rest against it, and the seat-back should 
follow the curves of the spine. If the seat is too high, 
there is constant strain in the attempt to keep the feet 
on the floor, and a strong tendency to slip forward in 
the chair and sit on the end of the spine. This alone 
may lead to tenderness of the spinal cord and conse- 
quent nervousness. If the seat is too long from front 
to back, the same thing occurs. 

The desk should be of such a height that when the 
elbow rests at the side, bent at right angles, it can lie 
on top of the desk. The desk should slope one inch 
in six, and should overlap the seat by at least two 
inches. If the desk is higher than this, it raises the 
elbow and brings a needless strain upon the back mus- 
cles. If it is too far in front of the seat, the child is 
obliged to perch on the seat-edge in order to write, 
and all the back muscles are severely strained. He 
should be able to write while leaning back in the chair. 

These requirements are the same for both children 
and adults, but are of especial importance for children, 
because the body is more plastic, and more easily 
changed in shape, and because children become 
fatigued more easily than their elders. 

Such seats as these here described should be secured 
for all schools. If possible, they should be adjustable, 
so that each child can be fitted to a seat. Where that 



ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS ^^ 

expense is too great, each room should have at least a 
few adjustable seats, so that the unusually large and 
small pupils can be suited. This is better than having 
no fitting whatever of the seat to the pupil. 

In discussing the causes of fatigue before the signs 
by which we may know it, we may seem to have put 
the cart before the horse, but the transi- 
tion from healthy fatigue to over-fatigue, fatigue^ 
nervousness, and nervous exhaustion is so 
gradual that it seems better to discuss them together. 

Any person who lives with children at all knows the 
first signs of fatigue. A child becomes inattentive and 
fidgety. Ideas not related to the lesson keep coming 
into his mind and he can with difficulty give even out- 
ward attention, because his muscles are tired and 
demand constant movements to ease them. If a five- 
minute recess is given at this point, there will be a 
noticeable recovery of attention and of control of the 
body. On this account, more advantage is gained 
from a short recess every hour than from one long 
recess midway in the session.- 

If, on the other hand, work is persisted in without a 
rest, a child becomes more inattentive, fidgety, and 
irritable, and less sensitive. Careful tests show that a 
weary person's skin is not as sensitive to touch, and 
that his eye cannot distinguish colors as well as when he 
is fresh. The tired person has not as good a hand-grip or 
muscular control as the rested one. This shows in the 
schoolroom when the tired child is duller in recitation 
and more awkward and untidy in moving about the 
room, in writing, etc., than at other times. Such a 
child is also more likely to be impertinent and undis- 
ciplined than when rested and "fit." A good night's 



46 



THE CHILD 



rest and plenty of the right sort of food should restore 
the normal energy. 

If even now he has no chance to rest, other symptoms 
appear. He may have trouble in remembering the 
names of familiar persons and objects. He is almost 
sure to forget quickly what he has learned. He is 
likely to be very irritable and to pass quickly from the 
gayest to the most sorrowful mood. He will probably 
have bad dreams and sleep uneasily. On the motor 
side, he will be even more fidgety than at first. Certain 
movements, such as swinging the foot or twitching 
the fingers will be kept up incessantly. The facial 
expression will become exaggerated — the eyebrows 
twitching, the forehead set in a frown, the lips com- 
pressed, the nostrils dilated. The whole body will be 
in a tense condition even when the child is doing 
nothing or is asleep. 

Such a child is decidedly nervous, although he may 
not as yet have any nervous disease. He must be 
carefully watched and relieved from worry and fear, 
but kept pleasantly occupied. Every effort should be 
used to build up bone, muscle and fat. Stimulating 
foods, and coffee, tea, and chocolate, should be 
avoided. Long hours of sleep should be secured. Such 
sensitive children are at once the promise and the 
danger of the next generation. They may degenerate 
into hysterical wrecks, or become the leaders of society. 

When actual disease begins, the symptoms already 
described become still more pronounced. On the 
Signs of mental side they are not likely to be evi- 

nervous dent unless the parents have the complete 

disease. confidence of their child. Groundless fears, 

hallucinations, forgetfulness, and all sorts of vague, 



ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS aJ 

uncomfortable feelings that make him cross without 
his knowing why, constitute the sad inner life of the 
child who is becoming nervously exhausted. His body 
may feel numb and lame, or may be very sensitive and 
sore to the touch. In either case there are usually 
skin eruptions, especially on the chest, back and arms. 
There will be either excessive perspiration or dryness 
of the skin. There will also be twitching of the mus- 
cles or even convulsions. 

A child who has any of these symptoms well 
marked and permanent, should be put under the care 
of a physician at once, and parents should carefully 
watch a nervous child to prevent such a condition from 
arising. It comes on so gradually and insidiously 
that neither child nor parents are likely to appreciate 
the change. It is, however, of the utmost importance 
that treatment be begun early, for if genuine nervous 
exhaustion occurs, it is doubtful whether entire recov- 
ery is possible. 

In the conditions so far discussed, we have consid- 
ered only children who, although fatigued, nervous or 
nervously exhausted, still might, under pecunar and 
proper treatment, be made well-balanced, exceptional 
normal members of society. There is, ^^^i^^®^- 
however, a large class of children who, owing usually 
to some inherent nervous defect, stand on the border- 
land between the abnormal and the normal, with cer- 
tain tendencies toward the abnormal. It is very diffi- 
cult to classify such children, but most of them seem 
to tend toward one of three groups: (i) The eccentric 
person or crank, who has a marked individuality, 
without being original or inventive, and who may 
become insane in later life; (2) the idiot or imbecile; 
4 



48 



THE CHILD 



(3) the criminal. Notice that I say only that the child 
seems to tend toward one of these groups. How much 
education can do toward correcting such tendencies 
is a matter that civilized nations are only just begin- 
ning to consider. 

Doubtless it seems surprising to place the criminal 
with the other two classes. Further investigation may 
change the classification, but as our knowledge stands 
now, there are certain physical conditions common to 
all. Adults of these classes and children who show 
such tendencies are, as a rule, below the average in 
height and weight. They are likely to have some 
marked bodily asymmetry or defect, such as a high 
palate or a misshapen head. They frequently have 
some serious nervous trouble, hallucinations, epileptic 
attacks, convulsions, or some other form of disease 
showing nervous instability. They are unlikely to 
resemble others of their own family, and they in turn 
will have few if any children. They seem to be, in 
short, deviations from the normal in most respects, 
deviations which, by their own defects, will die out in 
the course of a few generations^ 

It is impossible to explain in detail what conditions 
produce these exceptional classes. Most physicians 
agree that there is some nervous heredity, but beyond 
this there is vv^ide divergence of opinion. Whether 
such heredity will lead to a genius, an imbecile or a 
criminal, no one can foretell. It is not uncommon to 
find two of the three types in one family. 

We can, however, say certainly that the children of 
nervous parents will themselves be nervous, and the 
more so if the parents, especially the father, are old. 
If such children turn out to be exceptional, parents 



ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS 



49 



and teacher have one of the most serious problems on 
their hands, for as the child contains great possibilities 
for good or evil, so does he need especial care. 

We need not reiterate the importance of good food, 
good air, and exercise for such a child. Just in pro- 
portion as he is unusual, does he need more Treatment of 

care taken of his body. His unstable, the excep- 

•1 i^ • 1 i 1 ^ - tional child, 

easily-overturned nervous system ought to 

have all the nutrition possible without stimulation. 

For such a child, however, the most troublesome 
question is how to treat him at home and at school. 
He is always doing unusual or bad things. He does 
not get along well with other children. Perhaps he 
hates school, and he shows all sorts of traits that make 
him the despair of all who have to deal with him. 

We can do nothing whatever with such a child until, 
with the utmost patience and sympathy, we learn to 
put ourselves in his place, to look at things from his 
standpoint, and to see how, from that standpoint, his 
actions and feelings appear justifiable. This is, of 
course, true in dealing with any children, but the dififi- 
culty in doing it is not usually so great as with the 
peculiar child. To put ourselves in his place, we must 
get his confidence, and at the same time do some 
unobserved observing and experimenting, to find out 
his real interests and make use of them to bring him 
into closer relations with other people. In every way 
such a child should be led to feel that he is a valued 
and needed member of society and that his greatest 
happiness is in serving others. The criminal is avow- 
edly anti-social; the genius is too often solitary, if he 
is not in open opposition to his time. Children with 
such tendencies, need, therefore, not to be marked 

4 



50 



THE CHILD 



out and set apart from their little world, but rather to 
be bound to it by infinite ties of service and affection. 
Nothing will help an unbalanced person to keep his 
self-control so much as the knowledge that he has 
duties and obligations, provided that the service be 
not so strenuous as to become a source of worry. 

But there is still a sad remnant of children who, 
with our present knowledge, are uneducable, or edu- 
cable only to a small degree. They are of all 
V^^ grades from the child who is only stupid, 

and can do the regular school work by 
having more time than the other children, through the 
various classes of the feeble-minded and imbecile, to 
the idiot who, a mere animal, can not be taught the 
simplest acts in caring for himself. For such children 
we feel more and more the need of special schools 
and special methods of instruction. In some of our 
public schools, they are now assigned a special room 
and teacher, and this should always be done. 

Another class of degenerates consists of those whose 
criminal tendencies can not be corrected. It is difficult 
for the optimist to believe in the existence of heredi- 
tary criminals, and it is possible that with more knowl- 
edge of the proper conditions for his life, the so-called 
hereditary criminal may be made a good member of 
society. But under present conditions, it is too true 
that certain children conceived in wickedness and born 
into sin are beyond our reach by the time they are ten 
or eleven years of age. 

As the causes of degeneracy are studied, more and 
more do we realize how the sin or defect of the par- 
ents is "visited upon the children even unto the third 
and fourth generation." Like begets, not like, but 



ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS 



5^ 



similar. The parent with any form of nervous defect 
passes it on, but in the child it may assume almost any 
other form. For example, statistics on the 
children of parents one or both of whom degeneracy 
were congenitally deaf, show that of their 
children, a much higher per cent than normal were, not 
deaf, but imbecile, epileptic, and criminal. The children 
of drunkards may be, not drunkards, but imbeciles, 
criminals or epileptics. Between 60 per cent and 80 per 
cent of criminals have drunkards for one or both parents. 

It is also the case that mere neurotic temperament 
in the parents predisposes the child to some form of 
degeneracy. The defect of the parent, whether due to 
voluntary causes or not, is visited upon the child, and 
if handed down by the children, is at last punished by 
utter sterility in that family. The criminal, if left 
to breed only with his own kind, would die out in a 
few generations, but he is constantly recruited from 
the borderland of the occasional criminal. 

Can there be a stronger argument for building up 
healthy bodies in ourselves and in our children than 
the knowledge of the close connection between crime 
and disease? From this standpoint, it is no slight 
matter to teach a nervous child perfectly regular bodily 
habits, and to cultivate in him what might be called a 
cosmopolitan appetite for all healthy foods. 

While it is not justifiable for any parent or teacher 
to be ignorant of the greater perils and temptations 
that face the child of nervous temperament 
than face the phlegmatic child, neither o^tioo^^®^''^ 
must they forget that under proper care 
such a child may become a most valuable member of 
society. The very instability of the nervous system 



c^2 THE CHILD 

that makes him so easily the victim of liquor or vice 
in any form, also makes it easy for him to adopt new 
lines of action and thought, that is, makes him less 
the slave of habit than other people are Such a per- 
son, when led by high principles and love of the 
service of his fellows, becomes the hero and leader of 
his generation. His vagrant, unlawful impulses must 
in his childhood be given the balance wheel of a noble 
ideak and then we may expect almost any good of him. 

REFERENCES 

FATIGUE 

Baker, Smith. Fatigue in School Children. Ed. Rev., XI, 

34-39. (Summary of signs and dangers of fatigue.) 
Donaldson, H. H. Gro7vth of the Brain. (Chapter on Fatigue.) 

N. Y. Scribners, $1.25. 
Dresslar, F. B. Fatigue. Fed. Sem., 1892, 102-106. (Brief 

summary of many authors' work.) 
Holmes, Marion. Fatigue of a School Hour. Fed. Sem., Vol. 

Ill, 213, (Supplementary to Burgenstein's experiments.) 
Kratz, H. E. Fatigue and Sense Defects. Froc. N. E. A., 1897, 

280-284. (Practical value of testing the senses.) 
How May Fatigue be Reduced? Froc. N. E. A., 1897, 1090- 

1096. (Practical Suggestions.) 
Lombard, W. P. Effect of Fatigue on Voluntary Muscular Con- 
tractions. Am. Jour. Fsy., Vol. Ill, 24-42. 
Lukens, Herman. Mental Fatigue. Am. Fhys. Ediic. Rev.. 

May and June 1899. 
School Fatigue Question in Germany. Ed. Rev., XV, 246-259. 

(Summary of German investigations.) 
Mosso. A. La Fatigue Intellectuelle et Fhvsique. Paris. Alcai:. 

$0.65. 
O'Shea, M. V. et. al. Mental Fatigue in School. Rep. of Com. 

of Ed., 1895-96, II 75-1198. (Summary of Warner, Galton 

and Spitzner.) 
Richter, Gustav. Mental Fatigue in Schools. Rep. of Com. of 

Ed., 1894-5, 449-460. (Summary of German Observations, 

especially Kraepelin's.) 



ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS :^ :> 

Scripture, E. W. New Psychology, 22'i-'2.j^']. (Chapter on Fatigue.) 
N. Y. Scribners, l§i.25. (Describes Mosso's and Lom- 
bard's experiments.) 

NERVOUS CONDITIONS 

Aldrich, Auretta Roys. Children and Their Critics, N. Y. 

Harpers, $0.75. (Peculiar Children.) 
Alexander, H. C. Training and Environment as Correctives of 

Degeneracy. Medicine, 1896. 
Allbut, T. C. Nervous Diseases and Modern Life. Eclectic 

Mag-., May, 1895, 645-49. 
Barr, M. W. Mental Defectives and Social Welfare. Pop. Sc. 

Mo., April, 1899, 746-759. 
Bateman, Frederick. The Idiot: His Place in Creation. L. 

1882. 
Beach, F. Treatment and Education of Mentally Feeble Chil- 
dren. London. 
Beard, G. M. Nervous Exhaustion. Rockwell, $2.00. 
Bohannon, E. W. Study of Peculiar and Exceptional Children. 

Ped. Son., 1896-7, 3-60. 
Brigham, A. Injiuejice of Mental Cultivation a?id Excitement 

up07i Health. L. Hatchards, $0.60. 
Carmichael, Jas. Disease in Children. 520-538. N. Y. Appleton, 

$3.00. 
Clouston, T. S. Neuroses of Development. L. Henry Lea Son 

& Co., ^5-oo. 
Corning, J. L. Brain Exhaustion. N. Y. Appleton, $2.00. 
Cummings, Elizabeth. Public School and Nervous Children. 

Educational Mag., 1886, Vol. VI, 549-554. 
Dana, C. L. Text Book of Nervous Diseases. N. Y. Wood 

&Co. 
Dawson, G. E. Study in Youthful Degeneracy. Ped. Sem., 

1896-7, 221-258. 
Deland, Margaret. Story of a Child. (Exceptional Children.) 

Boston. Houghton, $1.00. 
Dupuy, Eugene. Heredity and Nervous Diseases. Pop. Sc. 

Mo., July, 1S77, 332-339. 
Ellis, Havelock. The Criminal. (Physical and Mental Charac- 
teristics.) N. Y. Scribners, $1.25. 
Farr, Wm. Vital Statistics. Ed. by Noel Humphreys, for 



CA THE CHILD 

Lon. Sanitary Inst. G. B. Vol. XXIV. (Shows relation 
of degeneracy to sterility and idiocy, etc.) 

Fay, Edward A. Marriage of Deaf in America. Washington, 
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ility and deafness.) 

Fere, Ch. Morbid Heredity. Pop. Sc. i^/^., July, 1895, Vol. XLVII, 
388-399. (Good. The conditions which lead to morbid 
heredity and the way to combat them summed up.) 

Fothergill, J. M. Maintenance of Health. N. Y. Putnam Sons, 
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Gower, W. R. Diseases of the Nervous Systein. Phil. Blakis- 
ton, $3.00. 

Harris, E. Tendency of Misdirected Education of Unbalanced 
Mind to Produce Insanity. 

Harris, W. T. Study of Arrested Development as Produced in 
School Children. Educ, 1900, 453-466. 

Ireland, W. W. Mental Affections of Children. L. Churchill. 
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Knapp, P. C. Influence of Overwork in Schools. Boston Med. 
and Surg. Jour., July 9, 1896, 37-39. 

Krohn, W. Nervous Diseases of School Children. C S. M, 
Vol. I, 354. 

Lombroso, Cesare. Man of Genius. N. Y. Scribners, $1.25. 
(Shows close relation between genius and degeneracy.) 

MacKenzie, R. L. Influence of School Life on Curvature of the 
Spine. Proc. N. E. A., 1898, 939-948. (Description of 
proper desk and seat.) 

MacMillan, Margaret. Early Childhood. (Chapters on Feeble- 
minded Child, Cost of Mental Effort, and Fatigue.) Syra- 
cuse. C. W. Bardeen. $1.50. (Very simple.) 

Maudsley, H. Pathology of Mind. Chap. VI, The Insanity of 
Early Life. N. Y. Appleton, ^2.00. 

Mercier, Chas. A. Psychology, Normal and Morbid. N. Y. 
Macmillan, $4.00. 

Monroe, W. S. Cholera among School Children. Am. Phys. 
Educ. Rev., Mar., 1898, 19-24. 

Moore. Studies in Fatigue. Studies from Yale Psy. Lab., No. III. 

Nordau, Max. Degeneration. N. Y. Appleton, I3.50. 

Olson, Mary D. Cigarette Evil and the Schools. C. S. M., Vol. 
Ill, 1-12. 



ABNORMAL BODILY CONDITIONS 



55 



Peckham, Grace. Nervousness of Americans. Trans, of III. 

Soc. C. S., i8S6, 37-49. 
Rayner, H. Early Recognition and Treatment of Mental Defects 

in Children. Afetl. Mag., iSqq, 451-461, 591-600. 
Reynolds, J. R. Influence of Tenement House Life on Nervous 

Condition of Children. Trans of III. Soc. C. S., Vol. II, 33. 

(Shows that such children are nervous and precocious, and 

stop growing sooner than when under good conditions.) 
Royce, Josiah. Mental Defects and Disorders from Teacher's 

Point of View. Ed. Rev., June-Dec, 1893, pp. 209, 322, 449. 

(Very stimulating.) 
Russell, E. H. Exceptional Children in School. Ed. Rev., VI, 

431-442. (Very suggestive.) 
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Starr, M, Allen. Familiar Forms of Nervous Disease. N. Y. 

Wood & Co., $2.50. 
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Sudduth, W. X. Nervous and Backward Children. Trans, of 

III. Soc. C. 5., Vol. I, 354. 
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millan. §1.00. 



CHAPTER IV 
Feelings and Ideas of Sex 

(If the class is mixed, or is very immature, the teacher may 
find it wisest to omit class discussion of this subject. It is one, 
however, which particularly concerns mothers, and a careful con- 
sideration and discussion of the points made here is urged upon 
them. The evils here described seem to be more widely spread 
than many of us think. ) 

EACH member of the class should write out 
reminiscences on the following points and give 
them to the teacher, to illustrate the various points 
Observa- mentioned in the chapter. No names need 
tions. be signed to these papers, but the sex 

should be indicated. 

1. What was your first idea of "where the baby 
came from?" 

(i) From whom did you get it? 
(2) If false, when and why did you become suspi- 
cious of the truth? 

2. Have you any recollection of any person ever 
trying to teach you self-abuse? If so, was this person 
a servant, another adult, or a child companion? Of 
the same or opposite sex? 

3. If you were instructed by your mother about the 
reproductive functions, what was your feeling about 
them when they first appeared? 

4. If not, 

(i) What was your feeling when they first appeared? 
(2) Have you since then come to talk with her 
about such subjects? 
56 



FEELINGS AND IDEAS OF SEX 



57 



(5) Do you feel that she wronged you by leaving 
you ignorant? 

(4) Did you neglect to care for yourself or 
meet harm in any way through your igno- 
rance? 

5. Have you yourself ever answered any of the 
advertisements on this subject, or do you know any- 
one who has? 

(i) What was your feeling toward the "Doctor"? 

(2) Were you seriously alarmed about yourself? 

(3) How long did you continue treatment? 

(4) How much money did you pay for medicine 

and advice? 

6. If you have from childhood talked over this sub- 
ject with your mother, write a brief sketch of your 
feelings about it as a child and as an adolescent, and 
especially, if you can, compare your feelings with 
those of some one who was left ignorant. 

Every organ of the body contributes its quota to our 
general bodily feeling and affects our state of mind, 
although we are not usually able to single vagueness of 
out each constituent and trace it to its the first sex 
source. We can not doubt that the repro- ^^^^^^s^- 
ductive organs add their mite to this fund of common 
feeling, for it is impossible that any healthy organ 
should exist without acting and reacting upon the rest 
of the body. Still, such feelings are very vague in the 
baby and in the child. Children are as ignorant of 
the source of such feelings as they are of all the other 
vague comforts and discomforts that make them con- 
tented or cross. We all know that modesty is not 
an instinctive thing, but has to be taught to the little 



58 



THE CHILD 



child. On account of this vagueness, we often assume 
that children, up to the age of adolescence, are prac- 
tically sexless. It is doubtless true that sex character- 
istics are much less marked before puberty than they 
are later, but nevertheless there are differences which 
lead to characteristic reactions for , each sex. The 
careful observation of these differences is one of the 
things that is still to be done in Child-Study. 

As puberty approaches, marked changes occur in 
the body and in the accompanying feelings. 
I. Physical. On the physical side we find: 

(i) There is great increase in blood pressure. In the 
child, the ratio of the heart to the arteries is 
as 25: 20; just before puberty, as 140: 50; and 
at maturity, 290:61. That is, in addition to 
the rapid growth of heart and arteries at 
puberty, there is nearly three times as much 
blood pressure. 

(2) The number of red corpuscles in the blood is 

increased. The boy or girl of this age 
should not, therefore, have any tendency to 
anemia. 

(3) There are usually rapid chemical changes all 

over the body, as is shown by a slightly 
increased temperature. 

(4) There is probably a rapid growth of association 

fibers in the brain. 

(5) There is the characteristic change of voice for 

both boys and girls. 

(6) There is a rapid growth of the entire body. 

(7) Often there is a decided change of features, 

which brings out family resemblances that 
before were unnoticed. 



FEELINGS AND IDEAS OF SEX 



59 



(8) The sense of touch becomes more keen, and 

probably the other senses do also. 

(9) In addition to these changes common to both 

boys and girls, there are the changes peculiar 
to each sex as the reproductive organs 
approach maturity. 

2. Mental. On the mental side, the changes are no 
less marked. There is a general mental restlessness 
which manifests itself most markedly in a rebellion 
against authority. Parental restraints which up to now 
have been endured, even though not markedly benefi- 
cial, become the occasion of defiance, and if persisted 
in, too often result in a sundering of all confidences 
between parent and child. 

Closely connected with this mental restlessness is 
the desire to lead. Ambition arises and manifests itself 
in numerous directions — in the organizing of societies, 
in extreme devotion to studies, or, on the other hand, 
to the social life of the school. Ideals hold strong 
sway over the youthful mind. The attempt to reform 
the world begins. The social nature, especially the 
moral and religious self, awakens to a new activity, 
and there is also in many cases the beginning of a 
genuine love for nature. 

It is hardly too much to say, indeed, that all of the 
permanent interests of the man have their origin or 
become greatly emphasized at this age. Or, to put it 
negatively, if any given interest is lacking at this 
age, it is very unlikely to exist in the mature man or 
woman. 

So far we have discussed this matter from the adult's 
standpoint, but now let us put ourselves into the place 
ot the child, and see what his uninstructed thoughts 



5o "THE CHILD 

and feelings about sex matters are. As we have already 

seen, the baby and the child have only the vaguest of 

sex feelings, and ask no questions about them. Every 

child, however, is practically certain to have 

The child's his curiosity aroused as to where the new 
own feelings. ■' ^ • ^ 

brother comes from. He comes to his mother 

or to the nearest grown person with questions about 

these things just as he goes to her with questions about 

everything else, for these wise elders know everything 

and are usually willing to enlighten his ignorance. At 

the start he does not have anything more than the 

healthy curiosity which he has on all subjects, and 

whether he keeps a normal, sane attitude or is forced 

into an unhealthy one, depends upon the sort of answer 

that he gets to his first questions. 

These answers may, most of them, be put under two 

heads. There is (i) the "Hush! Hush!" answer. Not 

infrequently a child is told that he ought to 

^J^^l"^^*^^ be ashamed of asking such questions, for 
tne child. ^ ^ , , • 

nice children never talk about such thmgs. 

He is made to feel that in some mysterious way he has 

done wrong, but his curiosity is left unsatisfied and yet 

is stimulated by the appearance of new brothers and 

sisters for his playmates or himself, and by the casual 

remarks dropped by his elders. 

(2) The fairy-tale answer. It may be that, instead 

of rebuking the little questioner, the mother receives 

him kindly, and tells him elaborate tales of how an 

angel brought the new baby down from heaven ; or she 

may prefer the stork or the cabbage-leaf as her detis- 

ex-machina. She flatters herself that thus she keeps 

the confidence of her child while still not telling him 

truths of which she is herself half ashamed. 



PEELINGS AND IDEAS OF SEX 5 I 

The final outcome is much the same in both cases. 

Both the child who is hushed and the child who is given 

the myth, get their knowledge of the 

facts from other sources. It is obtained ?ff^L^5^° 

tue cnild. 

from nurse-girls, servants, or other chil- 
dren, and is usually so told and so garbled as to 
make the children still more secret and^ ashamed. 
Obscene pictures, with their meaning obscurely hinted 
at by older children, furnish more material for the 
imagination, and so, by degrees, an exciting and per- 
verted picture of sex differences and the meaning of 
those differences is formed 

Children thus get the idea that there is something- 
shameful about the facts of sex. They conceal their 
thoughts from their parents and carry them through 
life or until they chance to read some rational book 
upon the subject. The horrible and grotesque ideas 
which children form when thus left to themselves can 
not be described. And yet, dreadful as they seem to 
the well-informed person, we must remember that they 
are the child's attempt to explain a most difficult sub- 
ject. Any blame for such ideas should attach to the 
parents who leave the child ignorant, and not to the 
child. 

If children who are thus left uninstructed escape with 
only the excitation of thought, many investigators would 
consider them fortunate rather than otherwise. Incor- 
rect thoughts and excited imaginations are bad enough, 
but are not so immediately dangerous as the forming 
of bad sexual habits, which may end not only in the loss 
of sexual power, but in nervous weakness and imbecility. 

At first thought, many people will say that children 
who learn such habits must be naturally depraved, but 



52 THE CHILD 

a closer examination of the facts shows that this is too 
sweeping an assertion. Doubtless some children do 
inherit passionate natures and are easily led astray, 
but even the best child has a sex-nature and may be 
taught to do wrong. 

Most physicians will bear witness that the danger 
here is not an imaginary one, and Havelock Ellis's 
. - investigations also show that an alarmingly 
guarding large proportion of men and women have 
the child. ^^ some time in their lives been given to 
self-abuse, and that in most cases they acquired the 
habit when children, without any knowledge of its 
harmful nature. Vicious servant-girls employ it upon 
children, to put them to sleep, and teach the children 
to quiet themselves in this way. The habit is thus 
sometimes acquired by babies of less than a year, and, 
once acquired, is as difficult to break off as the drink 
habit. The child can not go to sleep without the 
accustomed stimulus, while with it he becomes sickly 
and dull. 

What is true of the baby is just as true of the little 
child. He must be guarded from evil-minded servants 
and children, and from his own ignorance. The only 
safe way to guard him is to make him feel that his 
mother knows more about this matter than any one 
else, and will tell him about it. 

The same thing holds with far more emphasis for the 
adolescent. With all the other changes that occur at 
adolescence, there comes also a great increase in the 
sexual feelings, for which the rapid growth of the 
sexual organs is responsible. It is simply nonsensical 
to suppose that the adolescent boy or girl has any 
instinctive knowledge of what these feelings mean. 



FEELINGS AND IDEAS OF SEX 5^ 

We all grant that, as soon as it is said. It follows then, 
that if they are left ignorant, they will either get 
information from some one other than their mother, or 
that they will not know how to meet the new condi- 
tions which confront them. If false explanations are 
given, or if they are left to make up explanations for 
themselves, they may do themselves serious harm, 
besides being very unhappy. 

Many adolescent boys and girls imagine that they 
have some fatal and shameful disease, and from these 

the quack doctors, who publish the lurid « 

1 , • , , , , Danger from 

advertisements about lost manhood and. quack 

delicate womanhood, make their enormous doctors. 

profits. Perfectly healthy boys and girls, who do not 

understand the new phenomena of adolescence, read 

these advertisements, find that they have most of 

the symptoms described— which are normal— become 

alarmed about themselves, and write secretly to the 

philanthropist who is so desirous of aiding suffering 

humanity. The "Doctor" finds that they are in a 

dangerous condition but can be cured by his medicine, 

which he accordingly sends them, extorting money for 

it and his advice until he can get no more. 

Mr. Lancaster's investigations show that this evil is 

widespread, and put the question of its existence 

beyond the shadow of a doubt. 

^ Now, it is easy for each father and mother to say, 

"Well, those are dreadful facts, and I have no doubt 

that they are true, but I am sure that my 

child will never have such experiences " Necessity of 

H, .r, ' instruction, 

ow can you be sure if you have never 

mentioned such subjects to your child? The very boy 

or girl who blushes so painfully if you but skirt the 



5 



64 



THE CHILD 



subject, may but be imitating your own attitude toward 
him, and may under other conditions inquire into it in 
anything- but a shame-faced way. 

Furthermore, we must remember that most of these 
children fall into the danger innocently, and that the 
very secrecy with which we surround the matter makes 
it impossible for us to know of the danger until it has 
actually come upon them. 

The only safe way, and the only justifiable way, is 
to have openness between parents and children. 
Modesty becomes prudishness and is carried to an 
inexcusable .extreme when it leaves boys and giris to 
grow up ignorant of one of the most important facts of 
life, and one which has such tremendous bearings, 
whether we will or no, upon each individual. 

The question then arises what information we shall 
give, and when, and how. We can not lay down many 
general rules, for the success with which the informa- 
tion is given depends upon knowing the particular 
child concerned and seizing the right opportunity. 
There are, However, some practical suggestions which 
may be given. 

From the standpoint of morality as well as from that 

of health, it is important to keep the sexual organs in 

good condition. Any unhealthy organ 

Sex hygiene. ^ . / ^ ■ -^ J j 

causes pam, or at least irritation, and 

directs attention to that part of the body. Therefore, 
the healthier the reproductiv^e organs, the less will they 
obtrude themselves unnecessarily upon the mind, and 
this we all know to be highly desirable. It goes with- 
out saying, therefore, that if there is any persistent pain 
or irritation the advice of a physician should be sought. 
Short of disease, there are certain simple rules to 



PEELINGS AND IDEAS OF SEX 



65 



follow. Most important and most neglected, is the 
observance of perfect cleanliness. There should be a 
thorough cleansing of these organs, if not of the entire 
body, at least once a day, and Marro urges that it be 
still more frequent, for the sake of coolness as well as 
cleanliness. These two agencies — coolness and clean- 
liness — he places as the two great preventives of irrita- 
tion and of consequent sexual thoughts. As soon as 
children are able to bathe themselves, the especial im- 
portance of this part of the bath should be impressed 
upon them. 

Stimulating foods, such as highly seasoned and rich 
deserts, and tea and coffee, should be avoided. 

On the mental side, the thoughts should be directed 
away from sexual subjects except as one of the matter- 
of-course things in life, and this leads again to the 
importance of instructing children upon the matter. 
Many parents say that children should not think about 
such things and therefore should not be told about 
them. They should rather say that children should 
not think morbidly about such things, and so should 
be told about them. Children are not naturally evil- 
minded, but they are as curious as all the rest of us, 
and peer intently at the things that are left in semi- 
darkness, and conjure up all sorts of ideas to explain 
them. If now these facts are brought to the light 
of day, and are shown to be very general facts after 
all, and if the sense of secrecy and shame is replaced 
by a knowledge of the importance of the facts, most 
children will have little temptation to think of them in 
anything but a healthy way, and will have the best 
safeguard against indecent speeches and acts from any 
source. 



56 THE CHILD 

The facts told must vary with the child's disposition. 
It is always necessary, however, that the parent should 
What infor- ^^^'^ ^" accurate knowledge, and should 
mationto feel that the subject is essentially a noble 
^^^®" one. The parent must feel that in giving 

the child such instruction, he is fulfilling one of his 
highest duties to society. 

Usually the child will himself give some natural 
opportunity by asking questions, and the amount of 
information can be determined to a large extent by the 
questions themselves. At first a little child is generally 
satisfied by the amount of explanation that comes in 
showing how a flower forms its seeds, from which other 
flowers grow; but if his questions go into more details, 
they can certainly be answered, if we have but the 
wisdom, so as to have only good results. There are 
families — and the number is constantly increasing — in 
which the most beautiful relations exist between par- 
ents and offspring as the result of the mother's confi- 
dences to her children. 

As adolescence approaches, this general knowledge 
needs to be supplemented by practical instruction as to 
what changes the boy or girl must expect. Much men- 
tal distress and irritability will thus be prevented, and a 
natural growth into manhood and womanhood secured. 

Finally the young man and the young woman may be 
taught with a new emphasis the vast importance and 
the sacredness of the relations of man to woman, and 
enlisted upon the side of a perfect purity of thought and 
action. The final justification of instruction in sexual 
knowledge is that it shall secure a higher ideal of the 
relation of husband to wife and of both to their chil- 
dren. The "social evil" and the great defects in our 



FEELINGS AND IDEAS OF SEX 



67 



family life of to-day arc directly traceable in part to 
ignorance of the laws of sexual health and morality. It 
is our duty, therefore, as good citizens as well as good 
parents, to train children to right ideas of their sexual 
selves. 

REFERENCES 

SEX PROBLEM AND ADOLESCENCE 

Barnes, E. A. Feelings and Ideas of Sex in Children. Ped. 

Sein., 1892, 199-203. 
Bentley, Ella H. Sex Differences Disclosed by Child-Study. 

N. IV. Mo., 1897, 257-261. 
Burnham, W. H. Adolescence. Ped. Sem., 1891, 176-195. 
Christopher, W. S. Three Crises in Child Life. C. S. M., Dec, 

1897, 324-335- 
Ellis, Havelock. Studies in the Psychology of Sex. Phil. F. A. 

Davis, $2,00. 
Man and Woman. N. Y. Scribner, $1.25. (Discusses sexual 

abuses.) 
Sexual Inz>ersiofi. Phil. F. A. Davis, $2.00. 
Geddes, P., and Thomson, J. A. Evolution of Sex. L, W.Scott, 

I1.50. (Scientific statement. Too difficult for general 

reading. ) 
Groos, Karl. The Play of Man. 252-2S0. N. Y. Appleton, $1.50. 
Krohn, Wm. Menstrual Disorders in School Girls. C. S. M., 

Vol. III. 270. 
Lancaster, E. G. Psychology and Pedagogy of Adolescence. 

Ped. Se?n., 1897, Vol. V, 61-128. 
Morro, A. Puberal Hygiene in Relation to Pedagogy and Sociol 

ogy. Am. Jour, of Soc., 1900, 224-237. (Practical details 

of hygiene.) 
La Puberta. (Best on subject. ) 
Scott, Colin. Psychology of Puberty and Adolescence. ' Proc, 

N. E. A., 1897, 843. 
Sex and Art. Am. Jour, of Psy., Vol. VII. 
Tolstoi, Lyoff N. Childhood, Boyhood and Youth. N. Y, 

Crowell, $1.50 (Memories of adolescence.) 
Voisin, J. Psychoses of Puberty. N. V. Med. Jour., 1900, 

634-636. 



58 THE CHILD 

ARTICLES ON WHAT SEX INSTRUCTION SHOULD BE GIVEN 
TO CHILDREN AND METHODS OF PRESENTING IT 

Allen, Mary Wood. Marvels of Our Bodily Dwelling. 275 pp. 
$1.00. 
What a Young Girl Ought to Know. 60 pp. $1.00. 
Child Confidence Rewarded. 19 pp. loc. 
Almost a Mati. 39 pp. 25c. 
Almost a Woman. 40 pp. 25c. 

Teaching Truth. 24 pp. 25c. (All published by Wood- 
Allen Pub. Co., Ann Arbor, Mich. Good.) 
Lyttleton, E. Training of the Young in Laws of Sex. N. Y. 
Longmans, $1.00. (Excellent.) 
Instruction of the Young in Sexual Knowledge. Int. Jour, 
of Ethics, 1899, 452-66. 
Morley, Margaret W. Life aftd Love. Chicago. McClurg, $1.25. 

Song of Life. Chicago. McClurg, $1.25. 
Salter, W. M. Children's Questiotis: Ho%v Shall We Answer 

Them? 
Stall, Sylvanus. What a Young Boy Ought to Kttow. Ann 

Arbor. Wood- Allen, $1.00. 
Warren. Almost Fourteen. N.Y. Dodd, Mead, $1.00. 
Wagner, Chas. Youth. N.Y. Dodd, Mead, $1.25. 
Warner, C. D. Being a Boy. Boston. Houghton, Mifflin, $0.60. 



CHAPTER V 

Sensation and Perception 

Teachers and students who are doing systematic 
work in Child-Study should observe the following: 

1. Sight. Keep a record of these points observa- 
in the baby's seeing: tions. 

(i) When was the blank stare replaced by real 
seeing of an object, i.e., by convergence of 
the eyes upon the object? 

(2) When did his eyes first follow a moving object? 

W^as the object bright or large? Did he 
move head as well as eyes? 

(3) When did he first look for an object or try to 

see where a sound came from? 

(4) When did he first look for something that ne 

had dropped? 

(5) When did he first show a liking for some color? 

What was the color? Was it in a bright 
light? 

(6) When did he first wink at the approach of some 

object threatening his eyes? 

2. Graspijig, When did these acts first occur? 

(i) Closing of fingers over object put into the 
palm. 

(2) Opposition of thumb and fingers in grasping. 

(3) Putting hand in mouth. 

(4) When did he first grasp for some object he saw? 
Notice whether he reached for objects far beyond 

his grasp, i. e., whether the hand closed to grasp 

69 



>jQ THE CHILD 

them. Babies often stretch out their arms for things 
that they want— such as the moon — but Baldwin 
claims that in such cases there is no reaching and 
grasping as there is when they expect to seize a tangi- 
ble object. He also claims that a baby does not grasp 
at objects far beyond his reach, and very soon learns 
to correct his first slight Jnaccuracies in judging 
distances. 

Teachers who wish statistics as to the ideas that 
children have about objects, should get G. Stanley 
Hall's pamphlet. Contents of Children s Mi?ids on Efiter- 
ing School (E. L. Kellogg & Co., price 25 cents) and 
follow the plan outlined there. They may find another 
list of words more useful, but the general olan will be 
valuable in- any case. 

In the preceding chapters we have discussed the 
physical nature of the child, and have hinted at some 
introduc- of the relations between it and education, 
tion. We shall now take up his psychical nature 

and endeavor to trace the growth from the rudiments 
in sensation and perception to the more complex 
manifestations in the adolescent's reasoning. Each 
mental process, such as memory and imagination, will 
be similarly treated, so that when the account is finished 
we shall have an accurate picture of the mental growth 
of children. 

In this part of our subject, far more than in the 
description of his physical nature or of his expressions 
of thought, observations are lacking entirely, or few 
in number, or defective; but nevertheless, individual 
observation may still be supplemented to a consider- 
able degree. 



SENSATION AND PERCEPTION 



71 



There has been some discussion among psychologists 

as to when the first pleasures and pains can be felt. 

In the older theories, which held more or 

less explicitly to the idea that even the '''i^e ^rst 

1^ - sensations, 

newborn child had a fully developed 

mind, the question of whether the soul entered the 
body before or at birth, was an interesting one; but 
for the later psychology this has been changed to the 
question of when the new life is sufficiently devel- 
oped to have consciousness. 

Compayre believes that for at least two months 
before birth there is a vague consciousness of pressures 
and jars, and perhaps of other vague comforts and 
discomforts. There can be no sensations of taste, 
smell, sight, or sound, as embryonic conditions are 
such as to preclude the possibility. 

Preyer believes that birth itself is a discomfort to 
the child, as evidenced by the fact that in two cases 
under his observation the child began to cry when 
only partly born, the face at the same time expressing 
pain; but when a finger or a pencil was put into the 
child's mouth, it ceased crying and the look of pain 
was replaced by one of pleasure. 

While there is probably a vague mass of feeling 
before birth, and certainly directly after, there is much 
less sensitiveness than there is a little later. This is 
because the nerve-endings in the skin are not fully 
developed and the connections between various parts 
of the brain not yet established. The newborn child 
responds more feebly to all kinds of stimuli than does 
the child a month old. 

We may summarize the condition in Miss Shinn's 
words: "She took in with a vague comfort the gentle 



72 



THE CHILD 



light that fell on her eyes, seeing without any sort of 
attention or comprehension the moving blurs of dark- 
ness that varied it. She felt motions and changes; 
she felt the action of her own muscles, and after the 
first three or four days disagreeable shocks of sound 
now and then broke through the silence or perhaps 
through an unnoticed jumble of faint noises. She felt 
touches on her body from time to time, but without the 
least sense of the place of the touch; and steady, slight 
sensations of touch from her clothes, from arms that 
held her, from cushions on which she lay, poured in 
on her. 

"From time to time sensations of hunger and thirst, 
and once or twice of pain, made themselves felt 
through all the others, and mounted till they became 
distressing; from time to time a feeling of heightened 
comfort flowed over her as hunger or thirst were satis- 
fied; or release from clothes and the effect of the bath 
and rubbing on her circulation increased the net sense 
of well-being. . . . For the rest she lay empty-minded, 
neither consciously comfortable nor uncomfortable, 
yet on the whole pervaded with a dull sense of well- 
being. Of the people about her, of her mother's 
face, of her own existence, of desire or fear, she 
knew nothing. Yet this dim dream was flecked all 
through with the beginnings of later comparison and 
choice." 

To trace the steps of the marvelous transformation 
from this animal-like little being to the wide-awake, 
fascinating little person of a year later is especially to 
trace the development of sensation and perception. 
Memory, imagination, and thought also begin here, but 
do not develop so rapidly as does perception. 



SENSATION AND PERCEPTION 



73 



It is so difficult to test a baby's sense of smell apart 
from taste that practically no observation of this sense 
has been made. Preyer cites some cases 
that seem to indicate some sensibility even of snTu^^^ 
at the first, but concludes that smell devel- 
ops much less rapidly than any other sense. This is 
because it has very little exercise, most of the sur- 
roundings of a well-kept child being odorless. 

A number of observations have been made on new- 
born children who have not yet been fed, to see 
whether there are different instinctive reac- 
tions to sour, bitter and sweet tastes. sensations 

of taste. 
Dilute solutions of such bitters as quinine 

and such sours as acetic acid were used, with varying 
results. While some babies made faces and rejected 
the substance, others sucked placidly at it. In some 
of the latter cases, however, when the solution was 
made stronger it was rejected. In all cases sweet 
substances were sucked.* 

Preyer concludes that while there are considerable 
individual differences in sensibility, there is from the 
start a dislike for sours and bitters and a liking for 
sweets. His own son showed a considerable degree of 
discrimination about his milk, objecting vigorously if 
it had not quite the usual amount of sugar in it. Most 
mothers find that if the baby's milk is changed there 
is trouble. 

Any new food given to a baby or small child at first 
causes contortions and grimaces which we are likely to 
interpret as due to great disgust; but they occur even 
with sweet foods which the child eagerly sucks at, 

*The various substances were all of the same warmth, to 
exclude the factor of temperature, 



74 



THE CHILD 



and seem to be expressions of astonishment rather 
than dislike. In many cases an incipient disgust can 
be overcome by manifestations of enjoyment from the 
child's elders, and thus likings for many hygienic foods 
can be formed before the child has a chance to acquire 
dislikes, or likings for unhygienic foods. 

This ought to be done when a child is first learning 
to eat solid foods, for by the time he is four or five 
years old he has such decided likes and dislikes that 
he can hardly be forced to eat food that he dislikes 
without nausea. In such a case, while a child should 
not be forced to eat a food for which he has a strong 
dislike, we need not go to the other extreme and give 
him an unhygienic diet even if he calls for it. To 
allow a child to make a meal off meat, cheese and pie, 
when he refuses potato, bread, peas, and milk, is the 
worst possible thing for him. There are other vege- 
tables, grains and fruits that he will eat, and these 
should be given him. 

Then, too, it not uncommonly happens that a child 
takes a dislike to a food from its appearance, without 
ever tasting it, and all that is necessary is to exercise 
a little diplomacy in getting the first spoonful into his 
mouth. Of course sometimes he will not like it, but 
even then the alternative is not an unhygienic food, 
but another food containing the same chemical 
ingredients. 

Practically it is a difficult thing to steer one's way 
between the over-indulgence of a capricious appetite, 
and a wise yielding to insurmountable dislikes, but it 
may be confidently asserted that the average American 
mother tends to over-indulgence rather than to the 
following of too hygienic laws. Little children are 



SENSATION AND PERCEPTION 



75 



given too stimulating and too monotonous a diet as a 
rule — too much meat and pastry and too few fruits and 
vegetables. This is partly due to the fact that children 
usually sit at the same table as their elders and clamor 
for the same food. The parents, unwilling to adopt a 
simpler diet, or unable to train the children to eat it 
contentedly, give them the rich food, which causes 
nervousness and dyspepsia. Either of the two possi- 
bilities is, however, within the reach of parents who 
have the strength of character to adopt it. 

We should also note here the fact mentioned by Miss 
Shinn that thirst is present from birth and is not satis- 
fied entirely by the baby's liquid diet. A baby will 
fret sometimes, not for milk, but for water, and a 
teaspoonful will relieve him more than an extra meal. 
Children also crave water more than adults do. 

The newborn child is deaf and remains so for a 

period varying from half an hour to several days or 

even weeks. If loud sounds do not call out 

Hearing, 
a response by the fourth week, however, 

there is reason to fear that the deafness will be perma- 
nent. Usually decided starts or tremblings are caused 
by a loud sound on the second or third day. 

The causes of this first deafness are two: (i) The 
middle ear is filled with the amniotic fluid instead of 
with air as in the adult; (2) The walls of the auditory 
canal either actually adhere or are close together, thus 
preventing or impeding the passage of air waves to the 
drum of the ear. After birth, the middle ear is cleared 
by the fluid running out through the Eustachian tube 
to the throat, and air entering by the same channel, as 
the child swallows; the walls of the auditory canal 
separate, and hearing becomes more distinct. 



76 



THE CHILD 



The advantage of having the ear thus cushioned at 
first is evident when we consider that the tympanic 
membrane is more easily ruptured in children than in 
adults, and if it were at first exposed to sounds as it is 
later, it would often be broken by the impact of air 
waves against it. It is quite possible that children are 
more sensitive to sounds than adults because this mem- 
brane is more delicate. 

The sensitiveness to sounds when once hearing has 
been established varies considerably. Compayre 
records that about the fourth day such slight sounds 
as a sneeze or a whistle caused violent responses. We 
should notice, however, that a child's starts or tremors 
when a door slams or when a loud voice speaks are 
often due to the jar instead of to the noise. This can 
easily be tested by making the sounds where none of 
the jar from them can reach the baby. Mrs. Hall 
observes this great sensitiveness to jars on the first day. 

On the seventh day a loud call would not awaken 
Preyer's son, but on the third day Miss Shinn's niece 
started when some paper was torn at a distance of 
eight feet. By the fifth week, Preyer's boy was so 
sensitive that during the day he would not sleep if any- 
one was talking or walking in the room. On the other 
hand, many babies sleep tranquilly through prolonged 
conversations. Habit has much to do with this. 

In the eighth week this same boy heard the piano, 
and was much pleased with the loud tones, but paid no 
attention to the soft ones. The various observations 
on sensibility to musical tones we shall consider later 
in connection with music. 

During teething, the same boy's sensibility to sounds 
was increased, and after the first year most new sounds 



SENSATION AND PERCEPTION 



n 



even when very loud, like thunder, caused pleasure 
instead of fear. 

Mrs. Hall noticed that her child distinguished differ- 
ent kinds of sounds before any one sound was recog- 
nized. When we consider the adult's inability to 
recognize absolute pitch, this is just what we should 
expect. Our knowledge and recognition of sounds is 
almost entirely a matter of their relations to each 
other. 

Under the head of dermal senses are included the 
various kinds of sensations which arise from the skin. 
Here, as in the case of smell, we have no 
exact observations as to how much a baby senses, 
discriminates differences of heat and cold, i- Tempera- 
It seems probable that after the first bath, 
he feels warmth and cold, and after the first week he 
shows decided pleasure in a warm bath and dislike of 
one i>^° C. lower. 

Taylor warns us that the child of two or three years 
has a membrane so much more sensitive than an 
adult's that it may be blistered by food which to an 
adult seems only warm. He evidences the protests 
of children against food and water which to us seem 
only agreeably heated. 

Under the head of passive touch we consider only 
those pressure sensations in which the skin alone is 
involved. When the muscles also are used, 
as in exploring a surface or in grasping, we ?ou^ii^^^^ 
have active touch. As with all the other 
sense organs, the skin of the newborn babe is less 
sensitive than it is a few weeks later, because the 
nerve terminations are still imperfectly developed. 
When respiration begins, the reflexes called out by 



78 



THE CHILD 



slapping or pinching are stronger than before, and after 
two or three weeks there is a markedly stronger re- 
sponse to a slight stimulus than at first. 

Preyer found that the lips and tongue of a newborn 
child are the most sensitive parts of the body. Tick- 
ling the tip of the tongue before the child had ever 
been fed caused sucking and swallowing movements, 
while tickling the root caused movements of ejection. 

Touching the palm of a two hours' old child causes 
the fingers to close about the object, and the grasp is so 
strong that the babe may hang suspended by his hands 
for half a minute — a feat many adults can not dupli- 
cate. Touching the soles also causes reflex move- 
ments, but they are slower than a week or so later. 

In the discussion of this subject, we anticipate what 

should come in the chapter on instincts, but it is so 

essential to the understanding of perception 

3. Active ^Y^at the separation is unavoidable. We 
toucn. ^ 

shall take up here the series of movements 

which most assist the child in getting a knowledge of 

objects as distinct from each other and as holding space 

relations to each other. 

We have already seen that Preyer found that the lips 

and tongue are most sensitive in passive touch, and we 

all know that everything goes into a 

baby's mouth, there to be sucked and 

licked Preyer attributes this to the baby's belief that 

all the world is milk, and that to get milk at any time 

all that is necessary is to put the first handy object 

into his mouth and suck it diligently. Miss Shinn 

takes issue with Preyer here and maintains that things 

go into the mouth on account of the pleasure that 

comes from contact with the sensitive lips and tongue, 



SENSATION AND PERCEPTION 



79 



just as an adult gets pleasure from touching smooth, 
warm surfaces or from exploring the outlines of an 
object with the hand. Both theories are based on 
observations of only a few children, but Miss Shinn's 
seems more true than Herr Preyer's. We must, of 
course, except from consideration the hungry child. 
He wants only food. But when he is fed and warm 
and happy, he will still mouth eagerly at anything 
between his lips, and will continue to do so even though 
it is hard and tasteless. He shows no disappointment 
when no milk comes from it, but on the contrary goes 
over it again and again with lips and tongue. And his 
repeated experiences that milk flows only from the 
bottle do not deter him. On the contrary, long after a 
baby has shown in other ways that he associates de- 
finite experiences with definite objects, he continues 
to put things into his mouth. He would not do this if 
all that he wanted from them were food. 

Miss Shinn also observed in her niece a stage when, 
to some extent, she used the mouth for grasping 
instead of the hand, putting her head down, like a 
dog, to get at the object, and protruding her lips. For 
some time, in getting an object into her mouth from 
her hand, she pushed her head down toward her hand 
more than she raised her hand to her mouth. For 
some time she would mouth over the face and dress of 
the person holding her, in preference to using her 
hands. 

Even children four or five years old put things into 
their mouths to suck, although they know that they are 
not eatable, and many adults do the same. The habit 
of chewing gum, where there is no taste after the first 
few minutes, illustrates this. 

6 



80 '^^^ CHILD 

In all this, there seem to be traces of the survival of 
an ancestral stage when man like other animals, did not 
use his hands for grasping, but only his mouth. The 
stage is, of course, rudimentary, and is not distinctly 
marked off from that of hand grasping, but it does 
seem to be present. 

For lack of a better name, we call the first move- 
ments of a child's hands and arms random. Many of 
them are not coordinated and they seem to 

r,^^^^ir,^ serve no useful end The child himself has 
grasping. 

no control over them. They are due to 
overflows of nervous energy, which drain off in this 
way. 

In the first random movements the arms go help- 
lessly here and there, striking against the surrounding 
objects, against the baby's own body, his face and his 
eyes, and now and then getting into his mouth, where 
they are sucked. They are especially likely to get to 
his mouth, because in the prenatal posture, the hands 
are close to the mouth, and the position is naturally 
assumed by a baby for some tmie after birth. The 
great enjoyment obtained from the thumb or fist, 
deepens the connections thus accidentally formed 
between the hand movement and the sucking move- 
ments, so that he soon learns to put his hand to his 
mouth when he pleases. By the twelfth week Mrs. 
Hall's baby was able to put things into his mouth or 
near enough to it so that the lips could feel them and 
draw them in. Even in the forty-third week, Preyer's 
boy would miss his mouth sometimes when it was open 
and waiting for food. In first learning these move- 
ments, the left arm often moves symmetrically with 
the right. 



SENSATION AND PERCEPTION gl 

Grasping develops slowly through a number of 
stages as follows: 

1. Reflex clasping. Two hours after birth the fingers 
will close over an object put into them, and within ti 
few days a loud sound or bright light may 

cause a convulsive throwing up of both fil^sp^ng. 
arms. Mrs. Hall states that at first her 
baby seemed unconscious of any object in his hand, 
but that on the fifty-seventh day the fingers closed 
over a small pencil-case. It seems as if her observa- 
tion must be defective here, as all other observers 
agree that the reflex grasping occurs shortly after 
birth. 

2. Holding with the thumb opposed to ^the fingers 
when an object chances to be in the way of the moving- 
hand. Mrs. Hall notes that after the 
seventieth day the thumb lay outside the a^g^g,^'''^ 
fingers when the hand was closed, while 

before it had been inside. During the first three 
months, the thumb becomes opposed to the fingers as in 
an adult, so that any objects which come into contact 
with the hand are more firmly held. This fact, com- 
bined with the ability already gained to put the hands 
to the mouth, results in many objects being taken 
to the mouth, where the variety and pleasure of the 
new feelings prompt him to repeat the act. 

Thus the thumb and fingers have learned to work 
together, though awkwardly, and thus connections 
ha\e been established between arm movements and 
the pleasures of sucking the hand or the objects held 
in the hand. But as yet the eye does not direct the 
hand, and therefore the child does not reach for 
objects that he sees, and he does not look at objects held 



g2 THE CHILD 

by his hands. These two points and their vast impor- 
tance to the child we shall consider shortly, but first 
we must trace the development of sight. 

Five minutes after birth, when taken to a window 

in the twilight, Preyer's son showed some sensitive- 

ness to the light. The eyes of a baby will 

1. Sensitive- close if a bright light is brought near 
ness to light, ^-hem, and are partly closed most of the 
time at first. Compayre thinks that one reason why 
some babies are so wakeful at night is that the darkness 
does not fatigue their eyes as daylight does. 

This first shrinking soon disappears, however. 
Within a few days the baby will turn its head toward 
a window or light, and within a few weeks will give 
various expressions of pleasure at light. The strabis- 
mus or squinting which is so marked in most newborn 
babies disappears by the third week, and moderately 
bright lights are enjoyed. The great sensitiveness to 
light at first is shown also by the fact that a baby's 
pupils are more contracted than an adult's. 

The importance of shielding a baby's eyes from a 
glare of light is thus evident. A little baby should 
not lie facing a window or bright light for any length 
of time, any more than a child should be allowed to 
face them when he reads. 

Observation seems to show that babies are generally 

shortsighted for a time, and in addition to this, their 

inability at first to move their eyeballs or 

2. Range of ]^q^(\ ^j^h any reg-ularity limits their vision 
vision. 4- , , , 

still more. The lens also does not accom- 
modate itself to objects at first, so that any object 
outside of the one focal distance must be very indis- 
tinct. While a child is not born blind, therefore, his 



SENSATION AND PERCEPTION g^ 

visual world is limited to the few feet directly in front 
of him, filled with indistinct blurs. By the sixth week 
the shortsightedness is less marked and by the eighth, 
accommodation of the lenses begins, both greatly 
enlarging the child's world. 

The first movements of the eyelids are not coordi- 
nated either with each other or with the eyeballs. 

One eve will be wide open when the other 
• 1 1 / I 111-11 • I 3. Move- 

is hair shut, and both will sometimes close mentsof 

while the eyes are fixed on some object, ^yes. The 
At first also they seem to be less sensitive 
than later, for wetting the eyelids and even the cornea, 
which is so sensitive in adults, will not cause the eyelids 
to close in some cases until after the third month. 
So also at first there is no winking when an object threat- 
ens the eyes. The first appearance of winking occurs 
sometime between the. forty-third and sixtieth days, by 
which time the movements of the eyelids are fairly 
well coordinated. 

Convergence, that is, harmonious movements of the 
eyeballs so as to bring the points of clearest vision in 

both to focus upon the same object, is in as 

r ^ ^ ^ ^ , . . . . . The eyeballs, 

impertect a state at birth as is everything 

else. Many children are born cross-eyed and remain 

so for months, the defect disappearing as the eyes are 

used and accustomed to work together. 

In all children different degrees of incoordination 

can be observed even from the very first, for while at 

some times the eyes are evidently not working 

together, at others they appear to be. In the last 

case, however, closer watching usually shows that the 

movements are not perfectly coordinated. Compayre 

traces the development from incoordinate movements 



84 



THE CHILD 



to involuntary coordinated, and then to voluntary 
coordinated; but while this shows the logical order and 
the order in which the relative importance of the 
movements progresses, all three are found from the 
second week on, if Preyer's observations are correct. 
He notes that on the seventh day his boy's eyes fol- 
lowed a candle, and converged, while on the eleventh 
day there was unmistakable fixation of the eyes. Mrs. 
Hall also notes that from the second week the eyes 
began to rest on objects, but places the first unmistak- 
able fixation on the twenty-first day. On the fifty-third 
day her child gazed at a box of rattling matches for 
six minutes, and on the sixty-second at a purse of 
jingling coins for twenty-eight minutes. Even then 
he would have continued, though showing great 
fatigue. 

This prolonged convergence of the eyes is one of 
the very important steps in seeing, as until it is ac- 
complished there can be no definite marking out of one 
object from another. Sully notes that convergence is 
well established by the sixth week, and it is followed 
almost at once in the eighth week by the accommoda- 
tion of the lenses, which makes each object still more 
distinct and definite in outline. The first well-defined 
seeing of objects probably occurs therefore about the 
second month, or between the second and third 
months. 

Following a movement with the eyes can not occur 
until convergence is well established, but we find 
that Preyer notes the first following with the first 
convergence, on the seventh day. He notes again, 
however, on the twenty-third day, that his son followed 
a moving candle with his eyes and turned his head to 



SENSATION AND PERCEPTION 



«5 



do so. On the thirtieth day Mrs. Hall's child fol- 
lowed the movements of a brush and comb, and on the 
thirty-eighth day, that of a gently swinging ball. This 
ability remains limited for a long time; thus we find 
Preyer's child from the forty-third to the sixty-fourth 
weeks just learning to look after an object that falls, 
and even when two and one half years old unable to 
follow the flight of a bird. 

After the baby gets distinct retinal images of objects 
through convergence and accommodation, and has 
learned to follow a moving object with his Looking for 
eyes, but one small step is necessary before a hidden 
his mental growth proceeds by leaps and o^J®°*- 
bounds; i.t\, he must learn to look for an object that 
is out of sight. Herein lies the germ of memory and 
a clear manifestation of will. 

Miss Shinn first observed this at the beginning of the 
eighth week, when the baby turned from studying her 
aunt's face to study her mother's which was entirely 
out of sight. Accommodation began at the same 
time, and was succeeded by a period of absorbed 
looking at everything that she could by any possibility 
twist her head and body to see. 

Closely connected with this, from the eighth to 
twelfth weeks, is the first recognition of faces. 
Naturally, the one who takes the most care of the baby 
is noticed first, or, if several persons spend about the 
same time with him, the one who most satisfies his 
instincts and impulses. Before this, even as early as 
the third week, a baby learns to recognize people by 
touch, but here we are speaking of sight alone. 

With this visual recognition, the baby has reached 
an advanced stage of perception, and we must now 



86 THE CHILD 

adopt a different method of describing what goes 
on in his mind. So far the development of each sense 
Sensation '^^^ ^^^'^ considered separately, as if when 
and the baby saw, he did not also touch or hear 

perception ^^ ^^^^^^ ^j^jj^ actually the different senses 

cooperate almost from the beginning, although imper- 
fectly. Connections are established with particular 
rapidity between certain sensations and certain reac- 
tions. Within two or three weeks after birth, for 
instance, the sight or smell of the milk will call out a 
definite response from the baby 

Such a sensation has bound up with it certain other 
possible experiences that make it more than a mere 
sight or sound. The sight of the milk now means also 
to the baby a certain taste and satisfaction. Later on, 
the sight of his mother's face means being held and 
petted; the sight of his bath means splashing, and so 
on through all his various experiences. He is binding 
together thus the numerous different experiences that 
he gets from each sense and from different senses, and 
the result is that each sensation comes to stand for a 
great many more possible sensations that he can get if 
he chooses to exert himself to do so. When a sensation 
has thus acquired meaning, it has become a perception. 

The first sensations that are associated are probably 
those of the taste and the touch of milk. These very 
soon become associated with the sight of the 
t(mch.^°^ bottle, the connections being established 
even as early as the third week. A child 
will then push toward the bottle and a little later will 
cease fretting as soon as preparations for feeding him 
are begun. 

It is probably the case that various touch sensations 



SENSATION AND PERCEPTION 



«7 



are very early combined into one whole, as a baby dis- 
tinguishes persons by the way they handle him long 
before he knows faces. But we have no toucIi and 
careful observations on this point. touch. 

Sully's Extracts record that in the sixth week the 
baby for the first time turned his head toward a sound 
to see what made it. Preyer did not see 

this until the eleventh week, but then it Sightand 

' sound, 

became very common and by the sixteenth 

week was done so quickly that it seemed reflex. This 

connection never becomes close. Adults are rarely 

able to locate sounds very accurately. 

We have already noted that between the eighth and 

twelfth weeks a baby first recognizes faces by sight and 

begins to seek for objects that are out of 

sight. He has now an immense amount of ^l^ht ^^^ 

work before him in the way of connecting 

the various appearances of objects with each other and 

of tracing similarities between objects, and he proceeds 

to this work with infinite zest. If we will but consider 

a moment, we can see how complex a task this really 

is. The slightest change of position changes greatly 

the appearance of any object. A table is not at all 

the same thing to the baby on the floor that it is when 

he is in some one's arms, and both are different from 

the table that he sits up to in his chair. We grown 

people have learned to allow for these differences; but 

to the baby mind the visual world must present a series 

of metamorphoses far more startling than any that 

the fairy godmother is ever supposed to make. It is, 

then, small wonder that he believes in fairy tales two or 

three years later if the wonder created in his little mind 

by these first miracles leaves any lasting impression. 



^^ THE CHILD 

Miss Shinn gives such an excellent description of 
what takes place in establishing these connections 
between the various appearances of an object that we 
will take it as typical: "Later the same day (when six 
months old) she sat in my lap watching with an intent 
and puzzled face the back and side of her grand- 
mother's head. Grandma turned and chirruped to her 
and the little one's jaw dropped and her eyebrows 
went up in an expression of blank surprise. Presently 
I began to swing her on my foot, and at every pause 
in the swinging she would sit gazing at the puzzling 
head till grandma turned or nodded and, chirruped; 
then she would turn away satisfied and want more 
swinging. . . . At first, amazed to see the coil of silver 
hair and the curve of cheek turn into grandma's front 
face, the baby watched for the repetition of the mira- 
cle till it came to seem natural, and the two aspects 
were firmly knit together in her mind." Preyer tells 
also of how Axel in his seventh month gasped with 
astonishment when a fan was opened and shut before 
him. If we can imagine our own feelings if a table 
should suddenly begin to disappear and reappear, we 
can faintly understand his surprise. 

When we consider that this same process of connect- 
ing the various aspects of objects has to be gone 
through with each object, we have a vastly increased 
respect for the working powers of the baby's brain! 

Recognition of visual form grows rapidly, and by the 
seventh or eighth month we find some babies identi- 
fying pictures, or recognizing the real object from its 
representation, as with Mrs. Hall's child, who recog- 
nized a real dog from its likeness to a toy one that 
stood on the mantelpiece. 



SENSATION AND PERCEPTION 



89 



In all this the baby is getting his world of things 
seen well separated from each other and reunited into 
distinct wholes, but this process is much facilitated 
when he begins to connect sight and touch. 

At first the two series seem to run side by side inde- 
pendently. The baby's hands grope and fumble with 
objects and learn to carry them to his 

mouth, but his eyes do not follow his sight and 

-^ . touch, 

hands. The connection between the two 

is established mechanically at first. The eye chances 

to catch sight of the hand that is fumbling some object 

and follows its movements as it does those of any 

moving thing. Sometimes the empty hand catches 

the eye and is carefully studied. Thus by degrees the 

eye forms the habit of watching the hand as it seizes, 

and later of directing it. 

The time when active touch and seeing are thus first 
united is given very differently. Sully puts it as early 
as the ninth week; Mrs. Hall, the fourteenth; Preyer, 
the seventeenth; and Miss Shinn, the twenty-first. 
It seems doubtful w^hether it could occur as early as 
the ninth week, for then convergence and accommoda- 
tion have only just been established, and the distinct 
seeing of objects would be too new a thing for the eye 
to control the hand with any success. More observa- 
tions are needed on this point. 

When the connection is once established, however, 
a baby is indefatigable in his efforts to reach and han- 
dle everything about him. Here we stumble upon the 
question whether a baby reaches for objects more than 
a few inches beyond his grasp, or whether he has an 
inherited distance sense, .an instinct for distance. 
Baldwin, in a series of experiments on his child, 



90 



THE CHILD 



found that she never grasped at objects more than a 
foot beyond her reach, and soon learned to correct 
this error. He argues, therefore, for a rudimentary 
instinct. Preyer brings forward on the other hand, 
numerous illustrations of Axel's grasping for objects 
across the room; and finally cites this incident, which 
occurred in the ninety-sixth week. Axel was in the 
garden and his father in a second-story window. Axel 
held up a piece of paper, asking his father to take it, 
and held it up to him for some time, thinking that he 
could reach his father's hand. 

The various observers record numberless attempts 
and failures to grasp, but whether the failure is due to 
wrong judgment of the distance or simply to lack of 
control of the hand is not evident from the accounts. 
As between Baldwin and Preyer, it is impossible to 
form an opinion until we have more extended data. 
Observations on one child are not sufficient material 
for a theory, especially when there is so much dispute 
as in this case. 

The ability to direct the hand by the eye increases 
very rapidly when once begun, until the child of a 
year has fair control of the larger movements; but 
how much he lacks in detail is shown by his difficulty 
in doing many common things He has to learn to 
carry a spoon straight to his mouth, to dress himself, 
to button or lace his shoes, to throw a ball — in short, 
to do all the acts that with us are so habitual that we 
are almost unconscious of them. 

In these numberless ways he is getting more and 
more definite ideas of the qualities of objects, and of 
their relations to each other in space — that is, ideas of 
distance. He now has but to continue repeating in 
detail what he has already gone over in large. 



SENSATION AND PERCEPTION 



91 



We shall see in the chapter on Growth in Control of 
the Body that from the sixth to the sixteenth year 
the child increases steadily, on the whole, in his power 
to manage his hands; here we see that mutually this 
is accompanied by constantly increasing 
knowledge of Ae' qualities of the world ^X'sens's. 
about him and of his relations to it. We 
have as yet no account of the progress made from one 
to six years of age in the knowledge of things, but we 
know how insatiate the little child is in his desire to 
touch, taste, and handle everything about him. He is 
getting the knowledge upon which all that follows 
depends. His senses are literally the only avenues 
through which his mind can be awakened; they furnish 
all the material with which memory, thought and ima- 
gination will ever have to work. If they are left 
unsatisfied, the whole mind is starved. 

We need, therefore, from the time when the senses 
become more active, that is, from about the second 
month, to provide plenty of material for each sense, not 
forcing it upon the child, but putting it where the roving 
eye and wandering hand can catch it and be satisfied. 

Bright, pure colors, and harmonious combinations of 
them, beautiful forms and sweet sounds, should be 
provided. For the hand, all sorts of objects, hard and 
soft, smooth and rough, accompanied by all the other 
touch qualities, should be supplied, and they should 
be of such a nature that they can go into the mouth 
without injury. A child must have objects to handle, 
even though we do object to having our nice things 
spoiled by hot little hands and wet mouths. If a child 
can not handle things, his knowledge of them is 
always imperfect, and so he must be provided with 
things that he can work over to his heart's content. 



92 



THE CHILD 



How seriously children who have had little food for 
their senses are hampered on entering school is shown 
by Dr. Hall's tests. A list was made of the words 

most common in primers and first readers; 
schoo^^work ^"^^ ^^^^ hundred Boston children who were 

just beginning first grade work, and six 
hundred and seventy-eight Kansas City children who 
had had seven months of school, were questioned to 
see what they knew about these things. The results 
are shown in the following abbreviated table. 



Object 



Bee hive 

Crow 

Bluebird 

Ant 

Squirrel 

Snail 

Robin 

Sparrow ^ 

Sheep 

Bee 

Frog 

Pig 

Chicken 

Worm 

Butterfly 

Hen . . ." 

Cow 

Growing wheat 

Growing potatoes 

Growing dandelions . . . . 

Growing apples 

Clouds 

Stars 

Moon 

Knew what woods were 
Knew what river was . . 
Knew what hill was. . . . 

Hoe 

Ax 



Per Cent Ignorant of It 



Boston 


Kansas City 


So 


59-4 


77 


47.3 


72.5 




65.5 


21.5 


63 


15 


62 




60.5 


30.6 


57.5 




54 


3-5 


52 


7 


27 


50 


2 


7 


47.5 


I 


7 


33-5 




5 


22.0 




5 


20.5 




5 


19 




I 


18.5 


5 2 


92.5 


23-4 


61 




52 




21 




35 


7.3 


14 


3 


7 


26 


53-5 




48 




28 




61 


5 


12 


18 


4 



SENSATION AND PERCEPTION 



93 



The original list is much larger, but the ignorance 
of such common things as those mentioned here is a 
serious handicap to the child who finds them men- 
tioned continually in his school work. Of course 
country children would appear to better advantage 
with this list of words than city children do. The 
point, however, remains the same, that it is useless to 
try to teach a child about things until he knows the 
things themselves. This experience it is especially the 
part of the home and the kindergarten to supply, for 
they can deal with the child just when he is eager to 
exercise his senses. 

REFERENCES 

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF CHILDHOOD 

This list includes such books bearing on the child's psychical 
processes as discuss a number of subjects. They can be bought 
to good advantage to supplement the text-book. In many cases 
public libraries contain only a few of the articles referred to 
in the various bibliographies, but are willing to buy a limited 
number of books, and individual members of the class can do the 
same. 

Baldwin, J. Mark. Mental Development: Social and Ethical 
Int ^retatiofis. N. Y. Macmillan, $2.60. (A discussion 
of the effect of society upon the development of each person. 
It shows how each person makes a part of himself what he 
sees in others.) 
Chamberlain, A. F. Child and Childhood in Folk- Thought. 
N. Y. Macmillan, $3.00. (The most complete and scien- 
tific resume of theories upon child-nature and its parallel- 
isms with savage nature.) 
Compayre, G. Intellectual and Moral Development of the 
Child. N. Y. Appleton, I1.50. 
Development of the Child in Later hifancy. N. Y. Apple- 
ton, lpl.20. 
Dewey, John. The School and Society. 125 pp. (A discussion of 
the relations which should exist between the school and the 



94 



THE CHILD 



other social organizations. The way in which this theory 
was worked out in a school is given in some detail in the 
Elementary School Record. Published by the University 
of Chicago Press.) Both are excellent. 

Groos, Karl. The Play of Man. N. Y. Appleton, I1.50. (A 
discussion of all forms of activity that can be classed under 
play. The best discussion on the subject.) 

Perez, B. The First Three Years of Childhood. Syracuse. 
Bardeen, I1.50. 

Richmond, Ennis. The Mi)id of a Child. N.Y. Longmans, $1.00. 

Sully, James. Studies of Childhood. N. Y. Appleton, $2.50. 
(An excellent presentation of the results of Child-Study. It 
takes up: The Age of Imagination, Dawn of Reason, 
Products of Child Thought, The Little Linguist, Subject to 
Fear, The Raw Material of Morality, Under Law, The 
Child as Artist, The Young Draughtsman, Extracts from' a 
Father's Diary, George Sand's Childhood.) 

Taylor, A. R. Study of the Child. N.Y. Appleton, $1.25. 

Tracy, F. Psychology of Childhood. Boston. Heath. §0.90. 
(An excellent short discussion.) 

STUDIES OF INDIVIDUAL CHILDREN 

Hall, Mrs. Winfield S. The First Five' Hundred Days of a 
Child's Life. C S. Af., Vol. II, 1897. (An accurate, brief 
record. Good to use as a guide for a similar study.) 

Hogan, Mrs, Louise. A Study of a Child. N.Y. Harpers, $2.50. 

Moore, Mrs. Kathleen Carter. Mental Development of a Child. 
Psy. Rev. Monograph Sup. No. 3. (An excellent study, 
but rather technical for general reading.) 

Preyer, Wilhelm. Dei'elopment of the Intellect. N. Y. Apple- 
ton, 1 1. 50. 
The Senses a7id the Will. N.Y. Appleton, $0.50. 
The Infant Mind. N. Y. Appleton, $1.00. 
(The first two books give by far the most detailed study of one 
child that has yet been made, and have been the foundation 
for all work that has been done since they were published. 
The appendices to The Se?ises and the IVill contain summa- 
ries of much work done previous to Preyer's. The Infant 
Mind is an abbreviation of the two others. ) 



SENSATION AND PERCEPTION 



95 



Shinn, Milicent W. The Biography of a Baby. Boston. Hough- 
ton, Mifflin. $1.50. (A study of the first year of a child's 
life. The story is delightfully told and the records are 
carefully made. The book is one that will certainly inspire 
any one who cares to go to studying children at once.) 

SENSATION AND PERCEPTION 

Baldwin, J. Mark. Methods a7id Processes. N. Y. Macmillan, 

§1.75. 
Compayre, G. Intellectual and Moral Developjnent. pp. 

96-164. N. Y. Appleton, $1.50. 
Hall, G. Stanley. Cojttents of Children's Minds on Entering 

School. N. Y. Kellogg, I0.25. 
Halleck, Reuben Post. Education of the Central Nervous 

System. Chap. VHI. N, Y. Macmillan, $1.00. 
McMillan, Margaret. Early Childhood, pp. 9-27. Syracuse. 

Bardeen, $1. 50. 
Prej'-er, W. Settses and Will. Chapters on the Special Senses 

and section on Seizing. N. Y. Appleton, $1.50. 
Shinn, M. W. Biography of a Baby. Chapters VI and VII 

especially. Boston. Houghton, Mifflin, I1.50, 
Sully, James. Studies of Childhood. Appendix containing 

Extracts from a Father's Diary. N. Y. Appleton, $2.50. 
Taylor, A. R. Study of the Child, pp. 1-60. N. Y. Appleton, 



CHAPTER VI 

Memory 

1. In getting data from adults, have them write out 
their earh'est remembrances. In doing so they should 
Observa- state (i) the age as nearly as possible at the 
tions. time of the event, and (2) how they know 
that it is not a false memory, that is, derived from 
others' accounts of the event. 

2. To test visual images, have various people (i) 
match a color from memory; (2) write out how some 
familiar object looks, putting in all the remembered de- 
tails. Similar tests can be used for all kinds of images; 
see the account of Kirkpatrick's work in this chapter. 

3. Keep a record of one child from year to year, to 
see what changes occur in his memories of different 
school subjects; or, test the pupils in any given room 
to see what subject of the previous school year they 
remember best. In doing this, you must consider the 
teacher and the subject that she likes best, as well as 
the pupil's interests at this age. 

4. Make a collection of number or calendar forms, 
or of cases of colored words. 

When a baby sees or hears or has any other sensa- 
tion, however vague it is, there is still some modifica- 
tion of his brain, some chemical change in 
IT^Z^""^ the structure of his nerve cells, and this 

ScIlSclTilOIl. 

change remains when the sensation has 
passed away. When two senses are appealed to at 
once or in close succession, as in seeing the breast 

96 



MEMORY 



97 



and nursing, two or more brain centers are affected, 
and for some unknown reason fibers of connection are 
likely to form between them. When this has hap- 
pened a number of times so that the fibers are well 
established, the baby begins to show signs of recog- 
nition. This happened as early as the twenty-second 
day with Preyer's boy. 

We also find memory showing itself faintly in another 
way when the baby turns to look for some object that 
has just moved out of sight. Here there has hardly 
been time for the retinal activity that was roused by 
the object itself to die out; the memory has persisted 
only a short time after the sensation, but still there is 
the beginning of memory. 

These first traces left by sensations upon the brain 
are sometimes called organic memories. They are not 
mental pictures of past events, but they 
make it possible for a baby to do with m^em^ories 
greater ease the acts which at first were 
very imperfect. For example, the first step in moving 
the eyes simultaneously is thus made possible. 

Organic memory is what makes the earliest percep- 
tions possible. We have seen already that perception 
differs from pure sensation, since in it the perception 
sensation has become bound up with other and organic 
sensations, or rather with the traces of °^®^®^y- 
other sensations. The binding is done by organic 
memory. The nerve centers receive a stimulus dif- 
ferently when they have already been modified by 
previous stimuli. They now contain within themselves 
the changes caused by previous seeing or hearing, and 
so are better prepared to receive again the same sight 
or sound or one like it. It is very much like getting 



98 



THE CHILD 



acquainted with a person. The first time we meet him, 
we are rather formal, and the interchange of thought 
is not very free; the second time it is freer, and so on. 
So the brain cell does not respond readily at first, but 
later is more easily aroused. 

The same thing occurs in forming a habit, except that 
the process is more complicated. Usually we limit the 
Oreanic term "habit" to series of movements, but 

memory and we also hear the term "habits of thought,'" 
habit. ^^^ ^^^ seem to form habits of thought much 

as we do habits of action. Perception — seeing objects 
as solids and as distant, as having characteristic tastes 
and touches and sounds — is simpl}^ the most inveterate 
mental habit formed, and is much the same for all 
people. Other associations, such as connecting a cer- 
tain dress or place with a certain person, are also 
mental habits, but they vary greatly with different per- 
sons, and they usually call into play memory images 
as well as organic memories. 

In the case of habitual movements, we saw that a 
baby soon learns to put his hands to his mouth; he gets 
a connection established between the feeling of his 
arms when they move in a certain way and the pleasure 
from sucking his thumb. This means, on the physio- 
logical side, that fibers of connection between certain 
sets of brain cells have come into contact, so that now 
an activity in one set is likely to rouse activity in 
another set. Any movements that occur simultane- 
ously or in quick succession, if they are repeated often 
enough, and are pleasurable or aid in reaching some 
end, will thus become connected and form an habitual 
series. Then any movement in the series will call out 
the next, this the next, and so on. 



MEMORY 



99 



Such a habit is an orj^anic memory in the baby. He 
has few or no distinct images, but certain connections 
have been formed between certain nervous centers. 
The same is true of the adult, in such cases as learning 
to ride a wheel. It would be impossible for us to 
describe the various positions that we must assume in 
order to keep our balance, and yet our nerve cells have 
learned their lesson so well that we rarely get a tumble. 
The education of the spinal cord and brain centers to 
perform long series of movements accurately goes on 
apace by means of organic memory, that is, by means 
of the changes made in the nerve cells and their con- 
nections, which persist and modify their future action. 
All this, it must be understood, takes place at least 
below the level of clear consciousness, and often below 
the level of consciousness itself, unless we call reflex 
action conscious. 

Habits, then, may be formed in the baby or small 
child simply by regularity in the conditions about him 
— regularity in his meals, in the kinds of food given 
him, in his hours of sleep and waking, in everything 
in his daily life. The rapid growth of his nerve cells 
makes education and the acquirement of habits espe- 
cially easy. 

With the older child and the adult habits are also 
formed voluntarily as well as involuntarily. We 
decide that we want to learn carpentry or embroidery, 
or that we will learn to tell the truth or to acquire 
some other virtue. Here we must in the first place 
keep the end that we wish to attain so clearly before 
us that old associations can not besiege us or forgetful- 
ness overtake us. A desire to reach some end is so 
essential that it is of little use to force a child to 

L.ofC. 



lOO 



THE CHILD 



do daily a thing that he dislikes. The pain which he 
constantly connects with the act or the study is so 
much stronger than the other connections that are 
established that even after years of discipline the 
habit falls off within a month or two when external 
pressure is removed. We all know that a teacher who 
wakes herself at six o'clock for nine months of the year 
will sleep until eight through the summer vacation, 
after only two or three mornings of wakefulness. So 
a child forced to go through certain mental or bodily 
movements for which he feels only dislike drops them 
as soon as restraint is taken away. 

There is one possible exception here when a child 
has a prejudice toward a study or act, but finds it 
pleasurable when he actually begins it. In such a 
case a habit may be formed, but not unless the original 
dislike ^aelds to a later pleasure or to a recognition of 
the value of the habit. When a habit has been formed, 
the first clear attention which was necessary for its 
performance is no longer required. The nerve centers 
have learned their lesson. 

Just because a habit of thought or action frees the 
mind for higher things, it is important that a child 
should at an early age acquire the largest 
ofgood possible number of good habits which he 

habits. ^^jji j^Qi- ^^^^^ ^Q unlearn later. It is un- 

pardonable for parents so to neglect a child that 
when he is twelve or fourteen years old he has to 
spend his time in learning regular habits of eating, 
habits of cleanliness — all those habits which relieve 
him from constant thought of his bodily wants and 
make social intercourse easy. The boy of this age 
has before him the more important task of forming 



MEMORY 



lO 



habits of moral thought and action. He is shaping his 
ideal of character, and he ought not to have to strug- 
gle constantly over these little things which a small 
child learns so easily. 

It is one of the important tasks of parents therefore 
to see to it that the little child grows insensibly into 
good habits of taking care of his body, and into 
the social habit of considering others equally with 
himself. 

From another standpoint we can see how deep the 
traces of our early experiences go when we consider 
our earliest recollections. It has always been of 
much interest to men to ascertain how far back their 
memories go, and it is also of interest to Earliest 
teachers and parents to know whether the recoiiec- 
experiences of infancy and early childhood tio^s. 
will be remembered by the adult. 

Sometimes we find a person who claims to remember 
an event occurring in the first year of life, but few of 
us can go back of the fourth year. Even then we are 
likely to confuse true memory with descriptions that 
have been given to us. Do events previous to the 
fourth year, then, have no effect upon later life? 
On the contrary, in those important years many 
things have been acquired — notably walking and talking 
— which through constant practice are never forgotten, 
and it seems probable that these early experiences 
leave traces upon the growing mind and brain that 
determine to a large extent the emotional tempera- 
ment of the child — the likes and dislikes, which either 
direct him well or must be fought and conquered with 
much effort later on. There is not much collected 
evidence here, but what there is is suggestive. It 



I02 THE CHILD 

is well known that if a little child receives a severe 
fright, fear is likely to persist far into adult life, 
although the person forgets the occasion that gave rise 
to the fear. The image is lost, but the organic and 
emotional effects persist. Dr. G. Stanley Hall tells us 
that upon visiting the farm where he lived until one 
and one-half years old, the feeling of familiarity was 
strong, and at special places a decided emotional tone 
arose, without any knowledge of what experience was 
connected with that place. We have other records 
of adults going to places connected with babyhood or 
early childhood of which they had never been told and 
having this same emotional tone and feeling of familiar- 
ity. Most interesting is the following anecdote told of 
Helen Keller. She became deaf and blind when about 
one and one-half years old. Before that time her father 
used to sing to her, especially two plantation songs of 
which she was very fond. One day, when she was a 
girl of eighteen and had been taught to speak, and 
was at the piano "feeling the music," those songs were 
played to her. At first she was bewildered, and 
painfully excited; then she repeated some of the 
words of one of the songs. There were evidently con- 
nections between the touch center and the auditory 
and word centers, such that these dispositions, left 
from the first year and a half of life, could be revived. 
There are other cases also of disease bringing back 
memories of very early childhood. 

Now if this is generally true, the first four years of 
life are as important educationally as any that succeed, 
or rather, they are more important. Nothing can be 
so important as to start a child out in life with good 
health and with a healthy equipment of emotions 



MEMORY 



103 



and habitual actions. That these can not he supplied 

by talk, is evident. Example is the only teacher. 

Everything- that is given to the child should be of such 

a character that the feelings and actions aroused by it 

can be the basis for the finer emotions and actions that 

come later. He should live in an atmosphere of trust 

and confidence, where there is no fretting and worry, 

much less dislike and hate. The music and stories 

that are given him should cultivate the positive, 

serene, fearless, high-minded attitudes. I have seen 

some little children whose confidence and joy were 

such as to make one believe almost anything possible 

in this direction. We must be sure that our children's 

restlessness and whining are not simply the reflection 

of our own worry and cowardice before we can assert 

the powerlessness of early surroundings to shape the 

very little child. 

So far memory has been considered principally 

as a matter of the changes in nerve centers, but in its 

narrower meaning- memory includes rather .,^ 

'^ •; De-velopment 

the mental side — the revival in conscious- ofmemory 
ness of some previous experience. How ^™^ses. 
this conscious revival of an experience develops is 
what we wish to trace now. Preyer's observations on 
this point ma}^ be given in full here, as most other 
observers agree substantially with him. The first 
memory image is one of taste, followed by smell, 
touch, sight, and hearing, in the order given. On the 
twenty-second day, his boy associated the breast with 
nursing, as was shown by his movements. During the 
second and third months, the presence of strange faces 
excited wonder, but the absence of familiar ones was 
not noticed. The memory iox faces was the first visual 



I04 



THE CHILD 



memory. In the twenty-fourth week, the baby saw 
his father's image in the mirror and at once turned 
to look at his father, evidently recognizing the image. 
In the twenty-sixth week, he repeated this, and com- 
pared the face with the image, turning from one to the 
other several times, but he had as yet little distinct 
memory. In the seventh month, he did not recognize 
his nurse after an absence of four weeks. Not until 
the forty-third week did he miss his parents when they 
were absent, or miss a favorite toy when it was gone. 
Another observer says that one little girl of ten 
months recognized her father after four days' absence. 
Perez also quotes the case of a child seven or eight 
months old who very much wanted a piece of bread 
that looked like some favorite cake. When he tasted 
it, he threw it away angrily, showing that he had an 
image of the taste of the cake, with which the reality 
did not agree. 

In the fifty-seventh and fifty-eighth weeks, in look- 
ing at the image in the mirror and at a picture of him- 
self, Preyer's boy apparently recognized both and 
passed his hands to the back of each, much puzzled by 
the differences he saw. Evidently the memory was 
becoming more distinct and detailed. In the sixtieth 
week, he recognized his mother's image as different 
from the reality. 

In the sixty-first week, he burned his finger in the 
candle, after which he never put it in again, though he 
would jokingly make movements in that direction. 
The memory image of the pain was well developed, 
though memories as a rule were not stable. In the 
twenty-third month, he recognized the playthings from 
which he had been parted nearly three months, which 



MEMORY 



105 



proves him well started toward the development of 
imagination. 

In these first experiences the baby's memory is a 
very vague one. As James says, his world is a "big, 
blooming, buzzing confusion," whose parts Freeing of 
have to be made distinct from each other memory 
and shaped into distinct, unified objects. images. 
One certain experience, like being fed, is repeated 
under many conditions — now in light, and now in dark- 
ness, now in one room and now in another. The two 
constant things, that his mother is always there and 
that his hunger is always satisfied, by their constant 
repetition and great satisfaction become impressed 
upon him, so that he soon recognizes his mother. 
Take also his recognition of his mother's face. At 
first certainly it is to him only a light patch against a 
darker background, moving from one place to another. 
But as he sees more distinctly and is able to follow it 
with his eyes, he learns that all the different appear- 
ances, side and front and back views, belong to his 
mother's face, and the constant repetition of that face 
with its accompaniment of increased comfort soon 
teaches him to recognize it apart from any one place 
or time. In brief, the memory image becomes freed 
from memories of any particular time and place by 
having the one constant experience — the mother's 
face — in many times and places. This is the usual 
experience. 

When psychologists use the term "image," they 
mean any revival of a former experience in a form 
distinct enough for us to look at it mentally and 
describe it, The revival of the sound of a piano, of 
the color of a sunset, of the taste and smell of coffee, 



J06 THE CHILD 

of the "feci" of velvet, and of the exertion of run- 
ning or stretching, are all equally images. If we 
place in these some definite time when we 
unTges experienced them, we say the image is a 

memory image; while if we combine them 
in new forms, we approach imagination. Memory 
images, that is, reproduce our past life in much the 
same form as we lived it; imagination makes new com- 
binations. 

Images are evidently derived in the first place, there- 
fore, from our sense life; that is, we get our materials 
of knowledge through the special sense organs — the 
eye, ear, skin, nose, tongue and the movements of the 
muscles. The feelings aroused in this way directly 
by objects, we call sensations or perceptions of sight, 
sound, touch, smell, taste and movement; and when, 
in the absence of the object, the sensation or percep- 
tion is revived or remembered, we have images of 
sight, sound, etc., or, to use the Latin terms, visual, 
auditory, tactile, olfactory gustatory and motor 
images. 

If you recall your childhood's home, you will prob- 
ably get good examples of most of these. You can 
see in your mind's eye the old house, its various 
rooms and the people in them (visual); you can hear 
your mother's voice (auditory); you can taste some 
especial food that she excelled in cooking (gustatory); 
you can probably smell some characteristic flavor or 
garden product or perhaps some medicine that you 
had to take (olfactory); you can feel your mother's 
kiss or, perhaps, some whipping or spanking you 
received; and you will probably find that almost all 
your memories of the place are bound up with your 



MEMORY 



107 



feelings of movement about it — climbing trees and 
hay-mow, and so on. 

In each person some of these classes of images are 
much more distinct than others. Usually the visual 
images are clearest, and are bound up with 
comparatively indistinct motor images. monotypes 
The auditory come next, and the others 
are still less prominent. About one person in six 
has more distinct motor images than visual; and, 
rarely, we find a person whose touch or smell images 
are the clearest. 

When from birth or by accident a child is deprived 
of any sense organ, the corresponding images grow 
dim, and usually disappear if the accident 
happened before the age of four years. A cases^*^ 

blind person, for instance, blind from three 
years on, has no images of color or form except 
what he gets from touch. A deaf person has no sound 
images. Only with the greatest difficulty can we 
imagine what the mental life of a Helen Keller must 
be like. In her Autobiography, in all her descrip- 
tions, the terms are those of touch, movement and 
smell, with one or two visual terms almost certainly 
obtained from her teacher. Can you imagine the 
enjoyment of music from the jolting of the vibrations 
of the instrument? Or how it would seem to have your 
appreciation of flowers determined solely by their 
perfume and texture? The vast world of pictures and 
natural scenery is non-existent for her. Of course 
there is some compensation, for the senses that are 
left become much more acute, and the images corre- 
spondingly so, but still it is difficult for us to imagine 
how we should feel under such conditions. 



|08 ^H^ CHILD 

And yet the same differences, although to less 
degree, exist between ourselves and other persons and 
ourselves and the children we teach. You, 
educa°fon^ let us say, are especially a visualist. If 
you can read a good description in visual 
terms, or see a diagram or drawing, you can understand 
a thing perfectly. But this child is a motile. The 
visual terms call up only shadowy, indistinct images to 
him, and your diagram is actually confusing. He 
never would think of representing the facts in that way, 
and he feels more and more like a stranger in a strange 
land as he reads on in the book. The audile has much 
the same experience. Yet neither is a stupid child; 
each only needs a little help to translate the lesson 
into his own images. When you remember how much 
of our school work is predominantly visual, you can 
see in what hard straits these two classes of children 
are put. We even invent methods whose whole ten- 
dency is to throw all the stress of learning upon the 
visual image. 

If we consider for a moment, we can see how artifi- 
cial any such method is. In his daily experience a 
child never uses one sense alone. A boy with a new 
marble looks at it, rings it, and tries it in shooting 
before he feels really acquainted with it. He gets all 
kinds of impressions from it that he can, and many of 
them are simultaneous. It is true that some one or 
two feelings emerge from the others and stand as sym- 
bols for the rest, but the presence of the others gives a 
background and richness of meaning whose impor- 
tance we do not sufficiently estimate. Take our own 
experiences — we never can go to an exhibition without 
being greeted on all sides by requests not to touch 



MEMORY 



109 



anything, and how defrauded we all feel by such an 
order is evident from the disregard of it. 

We say that only a man of the same craft can fully 
appreciate a certain piece of work, because he can enter 
into its difficulties and delights — that is, he alone has 
all the sorts of images that constitute the memory of 
its making. A woman who has never done embroidery 
grumbles at the price she has to pay for it; the one 
who has done it may not like the price either, but she 
says the work is worth it — she has the other images 
that put into the visual image a deeper meaning than 
the first woman can get. 

So with the children, let us give them as great a 
variety of images as possible, while still appealing to 
the form most clear to each. Present a subject in such 
various ways that at least one way shall appeal to the 
visualist, the audile and the motile, and then bind 
the proper motor expression with it strongly and 
indissolubly by giving opportunities for expression in 
some form of handwork. The importance of expression 
has already been emphasized in various places; here 
again it comes up as the final test of the clearness of 
the image and also as the clarifier of the image. 

In 1885 the experiments of Ebbinghaus on memory 

were published, in which were stated in an exact and 

general form facts which before were only 

vaguely recognized. As later experiment The laws 
. ~ r Of memory. 

has confirmed these for children as well 

as for adults, an account of them is in order here. 
Ebbinghaus took 2,300 meaningless syllables and 
shook them together, then, drawing them out haphaz- 
ard, he made lists of them, varying in length from six 
to sixteen syllables. These lists were then repeated 



J JO THE CHILD 

to the subject in a monotonous voice, at regular inter- 
vals, until he could reproduce the list correctly. A 
very large number of experiments was made thus, and 
elaborate precautions were taken to eliminate the 
effects of fatigue, of association, of health, etc. As 
the outcome, Ebbinghaus was able to formulate certain 
laws thus: 

1. A long list requires more than a proportionate 
number of repetitions before it is memorized, e.g., 
a list of seven syllables required but one repetition; 
one of twelve, seventeen repetitions; one of sixteen, 
thirty repetitions. 

2. Poetry, into which enter associations of sense 
and rhythm, requires but one-tenth as many'repetitions 
as the nonsense syllables. 

3. There is an unconscious or what we have called 
an organic memory, for even when a list previously 
learned is so forgotten that it is not recognized, it 
requires but two-thirds of the original number of repe- 
titions to relearn it. 

4. Forgetting proceeds thus: 

After I hour, more than one-half the original work 
must be done in relearning the list. 

After 8 hours, two-thirds of the original work. 

After 24 hours, about two-thirds of the original 
work. 

After 6 days, three-fourths of the original work. 

After I month, four-fifths of the original work. 

That is, forgetting occurs much more rapidly dur- 
ing the first eight hours than afterward, and after one 
week occurs so slowly that it is hardly perceptible 
except over a long lapse of time. This shows the great 
value to the teacher of reviewing each day the previous 



MEMORY 



111 



day's lesson, in order to find out how much her pupils 
arc likely to retain permanently. 

5. When once learned, a long series is retained better 
than a short one. 

6. When many repetitions are necessary, distribution 
of them over a longer period of time lessens the 
number. For instance, a series of twelve syllables 
required thirty-eight repetitions when distributed over 
four days; but sixty-four when the repetitions were 
consecutive. 

7. Associations are formed between all the members 
of a series, so that even if the order is changed, the 
series is more easily learned than at first. The strength 
of the association is less when moving backward than 
forward; and less for members of the series farther off 
than for the nearer ones. 

Mr. Jacobs and Mrs. Bryant took up one of the 
details of Ebbinghaus's work and experimented with 
school children to ascertain how long a series could be 
learned with one repetition; how the span of memory 
(i.e., the length of series thus learned) varied with age, 
and what relation it bore to the pupil's rank in school. 
They used digits, omitting 7, and letters, omitting w, 
as more uniform in sound than nonsense syllables. 
They give the following table for the span of girls. 



Age 

No. girls 

No. nos. 
No. let'rs 



8 


9 


10 


11 


12 


13 


14 


15 


16 


17 


18 


8 
6.6 


13 

6.7 


19 


36 


41 

7.4 


42 

7.3 


42 


72 
7.7 


66 

8 


50 

8 


30 

8.6 


6.8 


7.2 


7-3 


6 


7 


6.6 


4.6 


6.5 


6.7 


6.7 


7.4 


7.9 


7-3 


8.2 



19 
14 

8.6 
8.9 



This shows that the span increases with age. They 
found also that the children with the largest spans 
were usually those whom the teachers classed as their 

8 



112 THE CHILD 

best Students, although there were some exceptions. 
Bolton also found that the highest span is a measure 
of the power of attention; but he puts the limit of the 
memory span for numbers as six for public school 
pupils. The span for girls is also higher than for boys. 
All observers find that the girls' memory is better than 
the boys'. 

Finally, Kirkpatrick experimented upon pupils from 
the primary grade through college to find what kind of 
memory images were best held. To do this, he first 
made three lists, two of ten ivords each, and one of 
common objects, avoiding associations as much as possi- 
ble. One list was read to the pupils; the words of the 
second were shoivn one by one upon the board; and the 
objects named in the third list were shown. The pupils 
were then asked to write out as many words in each list 
as possible. It was found that 6.85 words out of the 
ten in the list heard were recalled ; 6.92 of the ten in the 
list see7t ; and 8.28 of \\\(t objects seen; that is, the audi- 
tory memory was poorest; the visual memory of the 
word next, and the memory of the object itself the 
best. 

The memory of the college students was but two 
words better than that of the primary children. 

They were then given three more lists of words. 
The first consisted of names of sounds, and the pupils 
were asked to think of the sound; the second, of names 
of colors, or lights and shades, and they were asked to 
think of them; the third, of names of objects, and they 
were asked to recall the object. They were then asked 
to write out the lists. The results show that 6.98 
names out of the ten in the first list were recalled; 7.91 
of the ten in the second; and 7.48 of the ten in the 



MEMORY 



113 



third. That is, the visual images of colors, or lights 
and shades were slightly better than the auditory 
images of sounds, or the memories of objects. 

After three clays, they were asked to write out what 
they could recall of the first three lists, with the start- 
ling result that .91 of list two, and 6.29 of list three 
were recalled. That is, while the visual memory- 
ax'erage of the words had declined to less than one 
word, from the original 6.92, the memory-average of 
the object itself was lessened only by two from that 
immediately after the experience. There could hardly 
be a stronger illustration of the superiority of things 
to words in early education, and of the activity of the 
senses and its effects upon memory. 

Kirkpatrick's experiments can hardly be considered 
tests of the pure auditory and visual word images, for 
any word has numberless associations with it that 
modify our image and memory of it. The experiments 
where numbers or letters or nonsense syllables were 
used to exclude associations, show that with younger 
children pure auditory memories are stronger than 
pure visual; while with adults the reverse is the case. 

As the child grows, characteristic interests arise 
and control his memories. The best memory for boys 
— 42 per cent — is in the first year of high 
school; for girls, the maximum of 47 per Eflfectofage 
cent is also in high school; the poorest on memory. 
memories for both boys and girls, 17 and 18 
per cent, are in the third grade. Negroes and white 
children seem to be nearl}' equal as to mere memory. 

Taking into consideration interest as well as age, it 
has been found* that during the period from one to 

♦Colegrove. 



114 



THE CHILD 



five, visual, auditory and motor memories are very- 
prominent. From the fifth to the ninth year, the motor 
memories of girls increase markedly but decrease from 
ten on; in boys, they increase slowly from five on, culmi- 
nating at fifteen. In both cases we trace directly the 
effect of habits of life. Girls, after the tenth year, 
usually exercise much less freely than before, while 
boys after that age constantly increase the amount of 
exercise. 

From ten to eleven both boys' and girls' memories 
for near relatives increase; and from twelve to thirteen 
decrease, but increase for all acquaintances, marking 
the entrance into wider social relationships so charac- 
teristic of adolescence. Between fourteen and fifteen, 
the visual and auditory memories of both increase 
greatly and also memories of places, doubtless mark- 
ing the beginning of a wider esthetic sense. 

If the above statements are correct, is it not a mis- 
take to postpone manual training, sewing and so on, 
to the high school age? Should we not 

Educational rather put them at the time when the 
applications. ^ , 

motor brain regions are so active as this 

abundance of memories proves them to be? Again, 
what is to be done with the child of the third grade, 
when memory is comparatively poor? We saw before 
that this is one of the periods of rapid growth. Is it a 
time when school work should be lightened? That 
the auditory memories are best in children under four- 
teen, points to the value of beginning the study of lan- 
guages early, and any work that demands memorizing 
and has little reasoning connected with it. With adults, 
the best way to memorize is to get a system or theory 
around which memories can cluster. With the child 



MEMORY II c 

this plan too should be followed, but committinj^ to 
memory is much easier than with adults. 

Finally, the widening of memories for friends and 
esthetic objects between fourteen and fifteen, points to 
the importance of widening the child's experience in 
both these lines. In all cases, we seem to see the 
close connection between interests and memory. 

In a former chapter we spoke of the effect of fatigue 
and health upon memory, showing that in proportion 
as health was poor or fatigue was great, condition 
memory diminished. Health and freshness of good 
are, then, two conditions for a good mem- "memory, 
ory. On the mental side, to train a child's memory, 
take up a subject when his memory for that class of 
things is best and so present it that he shall feel its 
close connection with his own life and shall be on the 
qui vive to get information about it. Knowledge so 
obtained has many interconnections and holds together 
well. No other will endure. 

Mothers and teachers not infrequently find certain 

mental peculiarities in their children that they do not 

know the significance of and are in doubt 

how to treat. Among these are "colored Unusual 

^ conditions, 

hearing,' ' and number, word and time forms. 

Quite a large proportion of people connect certain 

colors with certain sounds, or with certain words or 

letters. The high notes of a violin may seem pale 

blue; the resonant trumpet tone, blood red, and so on. 

Each letter of the alphabet may have its characteristic 

color, or all the vowels, or only names of persons. It 

is practically impossible in many cases to find the origin 

of these various associations, but they may go back to 

very early memories, or they may be due to unusual 



ii6 



THE CHILD 



congenital connections between the brain-centers con- 
cerned. The)- do not mark any mental abnormah'tv, 

and it is not wise to 
ridicule a child who 
has them. To him 
they are perfectly nat- 
ural. 

Number, calendar 
and alphabet forms 
are much more com- 
mon. It is estimated 




120 



up 



vov 



Diagram 5. Number Form uf 
Mr. Walter Lakden, Form- 
erly OF Cheltenham College, 
England. The Faint Lines 
Aheto Show the Perspective. 
(Galton.) 



?^ /'; /' i/' >' 10 *^ 






50 



0O 



12 



that of men one-sixth 
to one-fifteenth pos- 
sess some kind of 
form, and of children 
and women a larger 
proportion. In all 
such cases, the num- 
bers, days or letters 
are arranged in a definite form in which the person 
always sees them. The diagram may be colored or 



DiAliRAM 6. 

Common to 



An Hekeuitary Number Form 
Bkothek AND Sister. (Galton. \ 



MEMORY 



117 



not. Several forms are shown in Diaj^ranis 5 to 10. This 
form is the same for the same person from year to year. 
It seems so necessary to the person that he can hardly 
imagine how he could 
do without it. It 
varies from the sim- 
plest arrangement to 
exceedingly com- 
plex ones of definite 
shapes, in which each 
number has its place. 
Herealsothe origin 



/ 





\ 


rf/ 


'xfA 


4i 




r\ 


r- 






r\ 


h 






L\ 


I OOT 






lo \ 


1 



9 10 11 



10 



Diagram 7. Number Fukm of 
Prof. Schuster, an English 
Physicist. The Numbers 
Are on a Kind oP Horse 
Shoe Lying on a Slightly 
Inclined Plane. (Galton.) 



Diagram 8. A Complex Num- 
ber Form Made Up of Dots 
Running Up TO 1,000. Into, 
etc., the Odd Dot May Ap- 
pear at Any ofthe Corners 
Marked X. (Galton.) 



1 — 
A 


100 






* * * * 






10 "-r? 1 ." .* .* *. : 


* • • • 




* * 






V 


* ■ • 


---6 >a*. :::: 




__-G' ""v^ 

"-2 





Diagram 9. An Hereditary Number Form 
Showing Peculiarities which Runthrough 
A Whole Family. (Galton.) 



is difficult to trace. 
In some cases it 
seems to be heredi- 
tary — several successive generations having the same 
form. In others, its origin is hidden in obscurity. As 
with the colored hearing, it does not mark any abnor- 
mality, and the best policy is to leave it alone. On 



ii8 



THE CHILD 



the other hand, one attempt at least has been made to 
teach a number form to all children, but the wisdom of 
this is questionable. 

The material for memories comes through the various 
sense organs and takes the form of sight, sound, 
smell, taste, touch, and motor images. Of 
these, the visual motor and auditory motor 
are the most common forms, although we find occa- 
sional cases, especially among the deaf and blind, 
where touch and smell are the most prominent. Usually, 





^ 1 




/\ 


^O 




3^/^ 


19 








/ 


/ 


13 




/ 


/ 


15 


144, 13;t 


/ 


23/ 


X* 


--^^^-^ 




/ ia 


13 




^ — • 


3i^ / U>I^ \1 


( 


Tj^tX-^JU^^J^tY X 


loaV 




^- ^ 9G 64 66 94 4^ 36 Z7Z5 eV J* 




>^ 



Diagram io. Number Form of a Gentlemen who Learned to Tell the Time 

AT A Very Early Age. The Most Prominent Numbers Are Those Found 

IN THE Multiplication Table, Especially i2. (Galton.) 

there is more or less combination of all the forms 
in memory, just as there is combined use of most of 
the senses in ordinary experience, and hence it is use- 
ful to give a child all sorts of sense experiences. He 
thereby gains a valuable background of images upon 
which he can depend if any one image is at fault. 
Memories of individual experiences do not usually go 
back of the fourth year, but experiences previous to 
that age leave their mark on temperament and feelings. 
The vividness of memories at any age varies with the 
condition of health and the interests of that age. 



MEMORY 



REFERENCES 



119 



MEMORY 

Aikin, C. Methods of Mind Training. N. Y. Am. Book, $1.00. 
Bolton, T. L. Growth of Memory in School Children. AjufoMr. 

Psy., Vol. IV, 362-380. 
Burnham, W. H. Memory. Am. Jour, of Psy., Vol. II, 568-622. 
Colegrove, F. W. Individual Memories. Am. Jour. Psy., Jan., 

1899, Vol. X, 228-255. (Good.) 
Compayre, G. Intellectual and Moral Development of the 

Child. Chapter on Memory. N. Y. Appleton, $1.50. 
Ebbinghaus, H. Ueber das Geddchtniss. Summarized in Burn- 
ham's article. (See above.) Lpz. Duncker & Humblot, 1885. 
Hall, G. S. Early Memories. Ped. Sein., VI, 485-512. 
Hartog, M, Interpolation in Memory. Contemp. Rev., 1900, 

Vol. LXXVIII, 532-539. 
Hawkins, C. J. Experiments in Memory Types. Psy. Rev., IV. 
Herrick, C. L. Propagation of Memories. Psy. Rev., IV, 294. 
Kirkpatrick, E. A. An Experimental Study of Memory. Psy. 

Rev., I, 602-609. 
Perez, B. First Three Years of Childhood. 1 21-130. Syracuse. 

Bardeen, I1.50. 
Preyer, W. Senses and Will. See Index. N. Y. Appleton, $1.50. 
Ribot, Th. Diseases of Memory. N. Y. Appleton, $1.50. 
Shaw, J. C. Memory of School Children. Ped. Sem., IV, 61-78. 
Stetson, G. R. Memory Tests on Whites and Blacks. Psy. Rev., 

IV, 285-289. 

Talbot, Ellen B. Attempt to Train Visual Memory. Am. Jour. 
Psy., Vol. VIII. (Account of rather artificial training.) 

NUMBER FORMS 

Colkins, M. W. Am. Jour. Psy., Vol. V, 269-271. 

Galton, Francis. Inquiries into Human Faculty. Section on 

Number Forms. L. Macmillan, $4.00. 
Horn brook, Adelia R. Pedagogical Value of Number Forms. 

Educ. Rev., May, 1893, Vol. V, 467-480. 
Krohn, Wm. O. Pseudochronosthesia. Ant. Jour. Psy.,\o\. 

V, 20-38. (Historical resume and bibliography good.) 
Patrick, G. T. W. Number Forms. Pop. Sc. Mo., Feb., 1893. 
Phillips, D. E. Genesis of Number Forms. Am. Jour. Psy., 

July, 1897, Vol. VIII, 506-527. (Good.) 



CHAPTER VII 

Imagination 

1. Collect instances in which a child's aream nas 
created a lasting fear. Be sure that the fear did not exist 
Observa- previous to the dream. Collect instances 
tions. where the dream created pleasure. Are 
such cases likely to be as common as the other? Why? 

2. Observe in some one child whether this order is 
followed in the growth of imagination: 

(i) Recalling and telling some experience of his 
own. 

(2) Listening to stories told him. 

(3) Inventing new stories himself. 

3. Collect instances of the personification of inani- 
mate objects. Did the children believe the object to 
be alive or not? 

4. If you know of any case of an imagmary play- 
mate, describe it fully, noting especially the age of 
the child when it began; how long it lasted; sex of 
child and of playmate; whether father or mother had 
such a playmate. 

5. Collect statistics from school children on the fol- 
lowing points. Get the age, sex and grade of each 
child on his paper. In getting such data, to secure 
free utterance, it is a good plan to tell the children not 
to put their names on their papers. 

(i) If you could be to-day just what you want to 

be, what would you choose? Why? 
(2) What do you want to be when you are grown 
up? Why? 

120 



IMAGINATION j2I 

Various sensations leave their traces on the baby's 
brain, and as persons and objects mo\H.' about him, he 
learns l:)y degrees to connect their various 

aspects with each other, that is, he learns Memory and 
, . , . , , . imagination, 

to perceive objects instead of merely receiv- 
ing sensations. Next, after he perceives objects as 
wholes, or while he is learning so to perceive them, 
comes recognition of them, and finally distinct memory 
images of them and desires for them when they are 
absent. Thus the baby arrives at a consciousness, 
though still vague and imperfect, of his past as well 
as of his present. He is no longer confined to a now, 
but looks backward to a then. 

As his memory images become more stable, they 
also become freed from definite time and place associ- 
ations. His. experiences with chairs, tables, father and 
mother, and so on, have been so numerous that his 
image of a chair or table, is not of his use of it at sorne 
one time and place, but of it in an indefinite time 
and place setting. He may have the definite setting, 
but he 7ieed not. In this way, the memory images 
become more flexible and subject to his will, and pres- 
ently we find him making alterations, picturing himself 
as doing something this morning that he has not done 
for a month; making little plans of what he will do 
after dinner, and in such ways showing his power to 
manage his images. Then suddenly he becomes con- 
scious of his power, and forthwith launches boldly out 
into a riotous sea of imaginings. Sometimes, indeed, 
he becomes swamped, or on the other hand he mistakes 
his buoyant fancies for the dry land of facts, but by 
degrees he learns to control them, and to see their lim- 
itations. 



122 THE CHILD 

At first, however, his new combinations are very 
inconspicuous, and more or less accidental. Perez 
Spontaneous thinks that they are first formed spontane- 
newcom- ously, especially in sleep. Some slight dis- 
ina ions. turbance of the circulation, or change in 
the brain, may lead to the establishment of new con- 
nections—connections which cause new, grotesque, or 
pleasing mental combinations. I think we may safely 
say that the growth of the association fibers in the 
first months of life would lead to such new combina- 
tions, without any effort of will on the child's part. 
These spontaneous combinations will be found, though 
to less degree, as the child grows older, and doubtless 
give suggestions for the voluntary combinations that 
the child begins to form between the second and third 
years. There can be little question that such combina- 
tions do occur in dreams, and that they seriously affect 
the waking life of many children. Mr. James gives a 
dream of his little girl as illustrative. She woke with 
a scream saying that a dog had bitten her, and for 
months afterward she had spasms of terror at the sight 
of a dog, although up to that time she had liked them. 
I myself have a little friend who woke crying that an 
elephant was in the room and was going to eat her. 
Her mother said that for weeks she would not go into 
the room alone even in the daytime, and even after six 
months she would not sleep there. If such occur- 
rences are at all common, we can see how easily a 
child can live in a world wholly different from that 
known to us, and how, if his images in sleeping life 
are vivid enough, he may confuse them with reality. 
There seems to be little that one can do with such an 
unfortunate dream except as far as possible to make 



IMAGINATION 



123 



the child realize that it was only a dream and nothing 

to be afraid of. 

The systematic forming of new combinations by the 

child occurs first in listening to stories, but this does 

not come until after he -has learned to 

,, ,. , . ... ,.^ , , Systematic 

tell little stories or his own lite — what he forming of 

has seen on his walk, what he did at ^®^ ^°^- 
, TT r -J binations. 

grandma s, and so on. He rorms vivid 

images of these stories, as is shown by his insisting 

upon the same words and facts in the story every 

time they are told. 

Only after this does he begin to invent stories of his 
own, but once started, he carries his story-telling to 
great lengths. The stories, like all his other fancies, 
are improbable and inconsistent to us, but not so to 
him, with his narrow experience. There is nothing 
incredible to him about the hole in a stone being the 
abode of fairies or about living in the water with the 
fish, and so he both accepts and invents fairy tales and 
myths with equanimity. As his experience widens 
and he learns more of the world about him, his wild 
imaginings give way to others that are more in agree- 
ment with fact, and so less conspicuous. 

It may be partly true also that a child's fancies are 
so unbridled because his perceptions are indistinct, and 
so he can read into them whatever he pleases without 
seeing any discrepancy with what is before him. In 
this connection it is worth noticing that the same child 
who can be so wildly imaginative, finds great difficulty 
in framing a clear image from a description. He has 
not the power of concentration necessary for this. 

There seems to be at times a real illusion in these 
fancies. The child will lose himself in them for the 



124 



THE CHILD 



moment. The fancy is so real and divides from the 
object itself so gradually that often he can not say 
where one ends and the other begins. He always starts 
with some actual object and proceeds to adorn it with 
his fancy, usually giving it qualities suggested by its 
likeness to other things. 

As persons interest children most, they tend to per- 
sonify all objects. The number of pretty and pathetic 
illustrations of this is infinite. The stupid 
tkm°^^^*'^" l^t^^^'s of the alphabet are made into per- 
sons, and the child talks to "dear old W," 
L is sitting down, and F and ^ are facing each other 
and talking. 

The most prolonged case of such personification is 
given by Miss M. C. Whiting. Each number up to 12 
had a distinct personality for her, and the various com- 
binations of them in arithmetic made the subject most 
fascinating. She began this at the age of eight, and 
continued it for four years, taking it for granted 
that other people thought in the same way. The 
various combinations are made by the numbers acting 
in \'arious ways, thus: 8 is so angry that she puts 
thoughtless 5 into 13. Here he stays until kind 9 
rescues him and helps him into 14. 2 helps 6 and forces 
him into 12, a kind of prison. 8 finds 6 here, and puts 
him into 14, which is pleasant but beneath his dignity. 
7 is already there by the aid of 2, and 8 hurls him 
into 15, a dungeon. 5 had already got himself here 
by the unintended moves of 3, but he persuades 4 to 
pity him and put him into 20, a most desirable station; 
and so on to 12x12. 

Jean Ingelow tells us that when she was a little girl 
she was sure that stones were alive, and she felt very 



IMAGINATION 



125 



sorry for them because they always had to stay in one 
place. When she went walking she would take a 
little basket, fill it with stones and leave them at the 
farthest point of the walk, sure that they were grateful 
to her for the new view. Another little girl thought 
that the leaves were alive, and autumn was a mournful 
time to her because the leaves all had to die. Moving 
things are likely to be personified, especially if they 
are noisy. Machinery, engines and steamers are ter- 
rific personalities to the little child. But he also per- 
sonifies his moving toys, his ball and his hoop. Even 
a sliding cushion was given life by one small boy. It 
seems odd to us that children should think of such 
things as grozving, but a goodly number of them do. 
Naturally enough, children attribute solidity to all 
objects at first, and so we find them trying to pick up 
the sunbeams. One little girl wants to wash the smoke 
and get it nice and white; and another wants to see the 
wind. When the wind was blowing strongly toward a 
neighboring town, one little child said he would like 
to go too because there must be so much wind there. 

Along with this personifying of all objects is the ten- 
dency to look upon them all as made for the use of people 
or even of the child. One little girl thought that the 
flowers opened to please her, and that the sun came out 
to light her. It is very difficult in all such cases to 
know how far a child is accepting literally the figurative 
statements of other people, and how far he is imagining. 

It is equally hard to draw the line between imagina- 
tion and reason. Thus, if a child sees a certain object, 
his fancy at once forms pictures of how the object 
came to be what it is. For example, one little child 
met a lame tramp on his walk and at once began to 



126 THE CHILD 

tell his mother that the tramp had been "riding on 

a big high horse, and the horse had jumped and thrown 

him off and hurt his leg." Another little 

Imagination f^^n^^ ^^^ the bumblebee industriously 

and reason. _ _ -^ 

buzzing in the window, and told his mother 

that it was asking for a lump of sugar. Then he 

addressed the bumblebee and told him that the sugar 

would give him cramps. The transition from fancy to 

reason is clear in the case of the tramp. The picture of 

the horse is the child's explanation of how it might 

come about that the tramp was lame. The induction 

does not seem to be different in nature from the 

working hypothesis of the scientist. 

It is also often difficult to distinguish between the 

playfulness of the imagination and lying. A child 

will sometimes come home and reel off 
and?^^n*^°^ long stories about what he has been doing 

and seeing, which have little or no truth 
in them. This tendency will last for months at a 
time. The thing one should look for in such a case is 
the motive. Does the child intend to deceive you or 
is he just playing with images, and asking you to play 
too? One way to find out is to respond to his story 
with some pretended doings of your own, confessing 
at the end that it was only play, and asking him if his 
story was not also. If in some way like this he is 
reminded that his ideas are not like the facts, he will 
usually outgrow the tendency. Only the intention to 
deceive is dangerous, and this we shall speak of shortly. 
Loneliness, distance, and mystery are great stimu- 
lants to a child's fancy. Probably most children have 
fictitious characters with whom they play at times, but 
the imaginary playmate reaches its fullest development 



IMAGINATION 



127 



in the child who plays alone. It is not uncommon 

to find that such a child has created for himself an 

invisible companion who is with him most 

of the time, and who remains in existence i^„^fi.°^^^ 
' ^ ^ playmates. 

for two or three years. This companion 

has a name and a definite appearance and is a source 

of much comfort, as well as, frequently, the alleged 

reason for much misconduct. "Bokman made me do 

that, mamma," is the reason sometimes given b)^ one 

little girl that I know. Or, "Bokman is wearing her 

blue dress, can't I wear mine?" It is frequently the 

case that the tendency to create such companions is 

hereditary. Usually when a child begins school, or 

gets absorbed in outside things, the companion fades 

away, but I know of one case in which it has persisted 

up to middle life. 

The distant world, the world beyond the hills, or at 

the end of the rainbow, or above the clouds, is the 

source of many childish wonderings and 

imaginings. I remember that in that l^isUnce and 

» o mystery. 

charming story "The Golden Age," there 

is an account of one picture in a book that was a 

source of constant questionings by the children. There 

was a hill beyond which church spires could be seen, 

and ships were sailing around a bend of the river into . 

the city. One day in a friend's house they found a 

book with pictures of the town. What joy was theirs 

really to see what they had wondered over so long! 

The degree to which these fancies may be carried, 

and the amount of reality necessary to bolster up the 

imagination, varies greatly. Sometimes a child may 

be urged to greater flights by a little make-believe 

on our parts. For instance, in playing store with a 

9 



128 THE CHILD 

little girl of five, I said I wanted some blue ribbon. 

She answered that they were out of it, but I pointed 

under a box cover and said, "Why, no, 

VlVl(ilI6SS 

there is some." The box cover was green. 
"No," she said, "that ribbon is green. " I persisted that 
there was blue ribbon under the cover, and took the 
cover away, pointing to the brown couch beneath, and 
saying, "See, there is blue ribbon." "No," she said, 
"that is brown ribbon, don't you see it is brown?" But 
presently, as I still persisted, she accepted my view, pre- 
tended there was blue ribbon, and taking it up — a purely 
imaginary ribbon — brought it to me. The relation of 
invention to imagination here is most interesting. 

So far we have been discussing what may be called 
fancy. Chance association and personal feeling control 

the mind, and the child is more or less con- 
Invention. . - , ,. r , . ^ , 

scious of the unreality of his mental rov- 

ings. We find a different state of affairs, however, 
when we turn to invention. The account of this will fol- 
low Baldwin. Let us go back, for the beginning of the 
child's inventions, to his imitations, and study the 
method of persistent imitation. In repeating a move- 
ment again and again, a child is constantly omitting 
some movements, putting in others, and so learning new 
ones. Now, just in proportion as a child gets skill in 
reproducing the copy that he set out to imitate, his 
attention can play about the movements he is making 
and introduce untried combinations, which result in 
something new or advantageous to himself. These 
changes may be accidental at first, but the sense of mas- 
tery that they give is a strong incentive to trying others, 
and so there is constant experimenting, modifying of 
old situations and stories, and intense enjoyment of the 



IMAGINATION 



129 



results. Baldwin gives as illustrative of the process an 
invention of Helen's. She began by copying with 
her blocks a church from her picture book. When she 
had it partly done, she saw that it could be altered a 
little and finished as an animal, which she forthwith 
did. This is typical of the inventive process, and is an 
important step in the child's development, because it 
teaches him that he has control over objects — that he 
is not limited to the mere imitation, but can make a 
new world of his own. From the teacher's standpoint, 
the close connection between this creation and imi- 
tation is important to note. The most imitative child 
may be the most imaginative. 

When a child has made such an invention, the next 
thing is to show it to an admiring world, to get social 
approval, and this also is typical of all minds. If 
others will not accept his wonderful creation, if they 
criticize or laugh at it, he is forced to modify his 
enthusiasm of it — to change it so that it will meet with 
general approval and use. The possibility of using his 
invention in his relations with others is thus a child's 
final test of his creation, and a spur to new efforts. 
The desire to have control of the situation, or to escape 
unpleasant surroundings, doubtless underlies this. 

Many so-called lies illustrate the same point. Bald- 
win gives another example here. Helen was bringing 
some packages to him from the hall and 
became tired before they were all brought and^mng 
in. She brought them more and more 
slowly and finally stopped before him and said, "No 
more." Now,^ as she became tired, Baldwin says, the 
thought of her delight when the task was finished 
and of the praise she would receive from her father, 



I30 



THE CHILD 



became more and more prominent. With this was the 
consciousness that she would tell h&r father when she 
was through. From this consciousness it was a short 
step to the thought that by telling him at once that 
there were no more she would be praised and relieved. 
That is, simply to escape from an unpleasant situa- 
tion, she invented a situation which would give her 
the desired results, without any sense of wrongdoing. 
Many of the first lies of children, where they are not 
purely imaginative, are of this sort, and should be care- 
fully dealt with, because they grow into deliberate lying. 
They usually occur like this one, because they are of 
use to a child in some way. The best way to deal 
with them must vary according to the disposition of 
the child. He must in one way or another learn that 
social disapproval always follows such an act, because 
if people generally lied, social life could not exist. 
On the other hand, when he has done any kind of 
wrong, the treatment of him should be such as to 
induce repentance instead of fear, so that the next 
time he does wrong he will not be tempted to lie to 
escape punishment. Where there is confidence and 
wise government, the lie problem will not be so press- 
ing a one as where there is fear and too great restric- 
tion. To prevent lies, then, there should be cultivated 
most carefully in a child the courage to take the con- 
sequences of his acts, and the confidence that he will 
always be justly treated and understood. 

Finally, we come to the most practical use of imag- 
ination that any of us make — the planning of our 
career. About five thousand children have been ques- 
tioned as to what they would like to do when they are 
grown up and what part they would like to take in the 



IMAGINATION 



131 



life about them. The close connection between imagi- 
nation and imitation is seen here. The occupations are 
necessarily chosen from the lives that the j^gg^ig i^opes 
children know, and out of the whole list andambi- 
suggested the boys mention two-thirds to ^°^^* 
three-quarters of the entire number. As one girl puts 
it, "There are not many things for a girl to be." 

The following table shows the occupations mentioned 
most frequently. Where two figures are given, they 
show the variation between different reports; where 
but one, agreement or but one report.* 

Occupation 



Teacher 

Dressmaker 

Milliner 

Music teacher. 

Musician 

Artist ; 

Housekeeper 

Nurse 

Servant 

Wife and mother 

Missionary 

Factory hand 

Bookkeeper 

Typewriter 

Clerk or stenographer 

Trades (Taylor's estimate, 1490 boys) — 

Engineer 

Carpenter 

Blacksmith 

Machinist 

Merchant, business man or storekeeper 

Farmer 

Minister 

Doctor 

Lawyer 

Sailor 

Railroad man 




*The table is based on the figures of Taylor and Monroe, with 
some data from Chandler and Darrali. 



132 



THE CHILD 



This table represents the average for all ages, but 
we find certain changes in choice between seven and 
fifteen that should be noticed. Thus the choice of 
teaching varies from 41 per cent at seven years, 
and 58 per cent at nine years to 20 per cent at 
eleven years. Milliner and dressmaker choices out- 
number those of teaching at thirteen and fourteen 
years and only then, pointing to an increased interest 
in dress. 

With boys, trades seem to be the most popular 
between seven and nine and clerkships between ten 
and twelve. The choice of a business career appears 
at eight, that of a sailor's life at nine, and both 
increase slowly, but steadily. 

These variations in the choice of profession at 
different ages are shown in more detail in Mr. Jegi's 
table of two thousand eight hundred poor German 
children. The table is given in per cents. 



Boys 



Years 

Carpenter . 
Merchant . . 
Bookkeeper 
Farmer . . . . 
Engineer . . , 
Machinist . , 

Clerk 

Fireman. . . , 

Sailor 

Officer 

Soldier 



10 


II 


12 


13 


14 


22% 


22% 


17% 


10% 


6% 


16 


13 


7 


12 


15 


II 


15 


5 


15 


23 


9 


15 


9 


10 


18 


8 


9 


20 


10 


10 


2 


4 


7 


18 


23 


I 


10 


13 


12 


12 


18 


8 


4 


2 


4 


9 


4 


12 


6 


12 


10 


6 


s 


10 


8 


8 


9 


8 


2 


2 



Total No. 

Choosing 

Father's 

Profession 



2I< 

19 
o 

13 

3 
2 

3 
9 
2 

3 
10 



2b\ 

II 

10 

12 

II 

4 
6 
8 
7 
9 
10 



"3 
67 

3 
14 
14 

4 
17 

6 

2 
o 



IMAGINATION 



133 



Girls 



Years 



Clerk 

Teacher 

Dressmaker . . 
Housekeeper 
Music teacher 

Milliner 

Bookkeeper . 
Typewriter . . , 



8 


9 


10 


II 


12 


13 


17% 


22% 


24% 


19% 


25% 


35% 


88 


91 


64 


63 


77 


33 


27 


91 


36 


57 


48 


63 


56 


34 


32 


32 


28 


22 





3 


12 


12 


12 


27 


8 


7 


4 


10 


ID 


8 


I 





4 


12 


3 


7 





2 


2 


8 


3 


7 



14 



16% 
32 

21 

14 
II 

9 
22 



The reasons for choice may be given as follows 



Like it 

Fitness for work 

Money 

Easy 

Philanthropy 

Parents' or relations' occupation pleasant 

Demand for this work 

Pleasant 

Opportunity for travel 



Girls 




As Mr. Monroe gives the table it is: 




Girls 



Like it 

Money 

Easy 

Philanthropy 

Parents' or relations' occupation pleasant 
Miscellaneous or no answer 



44% 
24 

14 

7 
2 

9 



Both tables agree in emphasizing the importance of 
the child's liking and his desire to earn money in 
deciding his choice. Indeed, the desire to earn money 
is so prominent that we can not but believe that our 



134 



THE CHILD 



mercenary age is influencing our children far too much. 
It seems dreadful that as many children, not adults 
but childre?i, should feel the need of earning 
motive^^^ money, as feel free to follow their own 
liking. Indeed, the most marked feature 
of all those observations is that so few of the chil- 
dren go beyond the range of the commonplace in 
their choice of a life work. The shades of the prison- 
house have already closed about them. They do not 
feel free and conscious that the world is theirs for the 
choosing. Most of them look forward to a life of hard 
work — household drudgery or ditch digging. Are they 
not loaded with the burdens of adult life .too soon? 

Money is the strongest motive for choice at every 
age from seven up to fourteen, when the adolescent 
asserts himself and chooses a profession because he 
likes it, or because his father or uncle is so and so. 

Mr. Jegi's figures of the German children, however, 
show that most of them, while choosing a humble 
profession, choose it because they like it, and that the 
money motive decreases instead of increasing with age. 

The desire to earn a living appears at the age of 

seven, and this motive, growing in definiteness and 

determining the occupation, such as teach- 

mo^tives. ^"^' because it gives good pay, increases 

until it makes 25 per cent of the choices 

at the age of twelve. 

There is also a growing appreciation of the disagree- 
able side of all work, and of the demand for each sort. 

Altruistic motives are not prominent until the 
eleventh year, when 10 per cent of the choices are 
determined by the desire to help support the family. 
At twelve, plans to help the poor, to convert the 



IMAGINATION 



135 



heathen, etc., appear, and rise to their highest point 
at fourteen. 

In observations upon four hundred and fifty chil- 
dren from kindergarten through eighth grade, Misses 
Sheldon and Hamburgher found a marked 
difference between the character of the Present and 
wish for the present, and tor the future desires, 
when they were grown up. Contrary to 
what we should expect, 16 per cent chose the improb- 
able for the present, but only one-eightieth of one per 
cent chose it for the future. The contrast is very 
funny in some cases. Thus one child, if she could have 
her wish, would be a rose in a garden to-day; but when 
grown, a teacher; another would be a bird now, but a 
dressmaker when grown; one boy of ten would be (of 
all things!) an angel now, but a docto*r by-and-by. 

It was also quite noticeable that when asked what 
they would choose for themselves and for another, they 
chose the more probable thing for self and let their 
fancy free on the other — bed-room slippers for self, and 
a diamond ring for the mother. Or is it possible that to 
the child the two things are on the same plane of values? 

Why should a child choose the improbable for 
to-day, and become so matter-of-fact over the future? 
Is it because the futility of to-day's choice appeals to 
him so that he lets his fancy roam? It would be worth 
while to get returns from more children to see whether 
this difference is constant, and whether it is more 
marked with the older children than with the younger. 

The character of the hopes which control childish acts 
is seen from another standpoint in an inquiry into chil- 
dren's motives for planting seeds. Among the boys, 
materialistic purposes increased from 56 per cent at 



36 



THE CHILD 



material 
ideas. 



eight to 75 per cent at fourteen, and in the girls from 
47 per cent at eight to 57 per cent at fourteen. Between 
Esthetic and ^^S^t and fourteen, the esthetic idea de- 
creased among the boys from 50 per cent 
to 28 per cent and among the girls from 
54 per cent to 44 per cent. Altruistic motives fluctuate 
in the boys, from 10 per cent at eight, and 25 per 
cent at twelve, to 15 per cent at fourteen. In the girls, 
on the other hand, they increase steadily, from 18 per 
cent at eight to 60 per cent at fourteen. 

Considering the ideal person whom the child would 
be, we find that with little children his traits are bor- 
rowed chiefly from father, mother or friend, 
The child's , f , r , • 1 • 

i^Q^i and very seldom trom literature or history; 

while with sixteen-year-old boys and girls, 
historical characters lead, followed by those from liter- 
ature, and a very few from among friends or parents. 
Washington and Lincoln are the heroes of both boys 
and girls, and the girls'ideals as a rule emphasize quali- 
ties essentially masculine. 

The following table shows the most common ideal at- 
tributes and their influence at different ages, in per cents. 



7 Years 


12 Years 


25% 


23% 


27 


4 


4 


9 


3 


3 


12 


I 


12 


I 


3 


10 


5 


19 


2 


I 





6 


4 


13 


10 






15 Years 



Goodness 

Goodness to self or class 

Truth and honesty 

Appearance 

Striking quality 

Feminine accomplishments 

Intellectual power 

Bravery and adventurous qualities 

Discoverer of invention 

Patriotism 

Leadership 

Wealth 



22% 
o 
10 

4 

o 

o 

12 

13 

o 

10 



IMAGINATION 



137 



Notice how the idea of a class goodness and the love 
of showy or striking qualities disappear in the older 
children. On the other hand the admiration of truth 
and honesty has far too small a percentage throughout. 

The more general question of what children would 
choose to have for self and others, brought out this 
result:* 

Others 



Concrete things 
Knowledge .... 

Health 

Companionship 

Happiness 

Virtue 




7of% 

3| 
4f 



With age there was a slight increase in the choice of 
abstract qualities. 

Now is it not a pity, that children and young people 
should be on the whole so prosy and confined to real 
life as these children are? We hear a great ^^^ ^^^ 
deal about the abuse of imagination, the abuse of 
danger of day-dreams and castles in Spain, i°iagmation. 
and the moral obliquity involved in presenting fairy 
tales and myths to children. There is, of course, a real 
danger here, lest in playing with ideas, a child forget 
realities, but in view of this collection of ideals bor- 
rowed so directly from the everyday life of thousands 
of children, the danger of our becoming a nation of 
dreamers does not seem to be nearly as imminent as 
that of our becoming a nation of money lovers and 
materialists, satisfied with present conditions. Will 

*Misses Mary L. Sheldon and Rae Hamburgher's unpublished 
data from four hundred and fifty children in the Chicago schools. 
The children were all from the "poorer districts." 



'38 



THE CHILD 



children with such ideals ever become creators? Will 
they turn out to be artists, poets, inventors, or even 
signal successes in the conduct of any large enterprise? 
Hardly. 

Instead of abusing the imagination by exercising it 
too much on useless things, we are abusing it by not 
employing it to raise and elevate our lives from year 
to year. There is no stronger power for good than a 
vivid and noble ideal. It is the air and water for the 
beautiful character that grows from the soil of prosaic 
surroundings. Even putting the question on practical 
grounds, no business can be successfully conducted 
unless the man at the head can imagine clearly the 
consequences of this or that move. He must be able 
to picture how his customers will like this new fabric; 
how he can best introduce it, and so on. Imagination, 
in short, is the pattern of the web of life. It is the 
shaping force without which the universe would be a 
chaos. We should say then, that abuse of the imag- 
ination is possible only when images do not finally turn 
back into our life and change it in some way. With 
this one limitation, we can not encourage the free use 
of images too much. 

We have al-ready seen that imagination is based upon 
memory images. In proportion as those are clear and 
distinct, will the material of imagination be 
hnaffinaliion ^^^^ ^^ manipulate. There is, however, no 
reason for using this material and so setting 
imagination to work, unless a child's curiosity is roused 
by something that he does not understand. When he 
asks himself a question and sets about finding the 
answer, imagination begins to work, and it may end 
in an invention like the telephone; a theory like the 



IMAGINATION 1 39 

nebular hypothesis, or a picture like the Sistine 
Madonna. The necessary thing in all cases is the 
arousing of a keen curiosity or interest, which is per- 
manent enough to keep the questioner at it until he 
has an answer. To cultivate the imagination, there- 
fore, cultivate far-reaching enthusiasms and interests, 

REFERENCES 

Barnes, Earl. Childish Ideals. N. W. Mo., Oct., i8q8, 91-93- 
Binet, A. Mental Imager>\ Fortnightly Rev., July, 1892, 
95-104. (Summary of Galton; popular account of images. ) 
Bryan, W. L. Eye and Ear Mindedness. Proc. hitern. Cong. 

Ed., 1893- 
Burnham, W. Individual Differences in Imagination of Children. 

Ped. Sem., 1892, 204-225. 
Canton, Wm. Invisible Playmate. Chicago. Stone, $1.00. 
Chalmers, Lillian H. Studies in Imagination. Ped. Sem., 1900, 

111-123. (Suggestive.) 
Chamberlain, A. F. The Child: A Study in the Evolution of 

Man. 83-86, 324-327- L- Scott, $1.50. 
Chandler, K. A. Children's Purposes. C. S. M., 1897-98, 136- 

139. 
Compayr6, G. Intellectual and Moral Developinent of the 

Child. Chapter on Imagination. N. Y. Apple ton, $1.50. 
Darrah, E. M. Study of Children's Ideals. Pop. Sc. Mo., 1898, 

88-98, Vol. LIII. (Good.) 
Galton, Francis. Inquiry into Human Faculties. Section on 

Images. L. Macmillan, $4.00. 
Hall, G. S. Children's Lies. Ped. Sein., 1891, 211-228. 
Hursh, S. B. Children's Hopes. C. S. M., 1895-6, 256-259- 
Jastrow, J. Eye Mindedness and Ear Mindedness. Pop. Sc. 

Mo., Vol. XXXII. 597. 
Jegi, J. I. Children's Ambitions. Trans. III. Soc. C. S., 1899, 

121-144. 
Lay, W. Mental Imagery Psy. Rev. Motiograph Supplement, 

No. 7. (Discussion of imagery of adults.) 
Lewis, H. K. The Child: His Spiritual Nature. 38-42. 

Inventions. N. Y. Macmillan, I2.00. 



140 



THE CHILD 



Monroe, W. S. Vocational Interests. Education, Vol. XVIII, 

259-264. 
Perez, B. First Three Years of Childhood. 147-157. Syracuse. 

Bardeen, $1,50. 
Preyer, W. Developjiient of the Intellect. See Index. N. Y. 

Appleton, $1.50. 
Secor, N. B. Visual Reading. Am. Jour. Psy., Vol. XI, 225-236. 
Sully, James. Studies of Childhood. Chapter on Imagination. 

N.Y. Appleton, I2.50. 
Taylor, J. P. Preliminary Study of Children's Hopes. Annual 

Kept, of Supt. of Ed. of N. V., 1895-6, 992-1012. 
Taylor, J. P. Practical Asi)ects of Interest. Fed. Se^n., V, 497. 
Thurber, C. H. What Children Want to Do When They Are 

Men and Women. Proc. N. E. A., 1896, 882-887. (Sum- 
mary of Taylor. ) 
Tracy, F. Psychology of Childhood, 72-75. Imagination. Boston. 

Heath, $0.90. 
Vostrovsky, Clara. Imaginary Companions. Barnes's Studies 

in Ed., 98-101. 
Whiting, M. C. Individuality of Numbers. Ped. Sent., 1892. 
Willard, Hattie M. Children's Ambitions. Barnes'' s Studies in 

Ed., 243-253. 
Wiltse, Sara E. Mental Imagery of Boys. Am. Jour. Psy., 

Vol. Ill, 144-148. (Suggestive.) 



CHAPTER VIII 

Conception and Reasoning 

I. Notice: 
(i) When the baby first connects sensations; e.g., 
the milk with the bottle. 

(2) When he first compares obiects: Observa- 

. . ^ ■' ' tions. 

e.g., one face with another. 

(3) When he first connects a present with an 

absent object; e.g., the dress with the 
absent mother. 

(4) When he forms a sequence; e.g., the sight of 

his cloak suggests going outdoors. 

(5) When he first adapts means to ends; e.g., pulls 

the tablecloth to bring something within 
reach. 

(6) When he first asks a question. How old is he? 

What is it? Does he follow it with others? 
^ How long is it before questioning becomes 
common? 
2. Question children from three to eight years old 
as follows: 

(i) What is the length of an hour, day, week, 

month, and year? 
(2) See whether they know how much longer the 
day is than the hour, the week than the day, 
etc. 
(3 ) How much do they think that they can do 
in an hour? 

141 



142 



THE CHILD 



(4) At what age did they learn to tell time? 

(5) At what age do they care to know the day of 

the month, the names of the months, etc.? 
3. Ask school children to tell you what the things 
are that are named in Dr. Hall's list in the chapter on 
Perception, or in a similar list. These descriptions 
will show the imperfections in the children's sense 
experiences and the consequent imperfections in their 
concepts. 

The nature of reasoning has been a subject which in 
the past has been hotly disputed. It has been con- 
Development sidered the mark of man's divinity, a fac- 
of reasoning ulty implanted in him by the Creator, the 
power. special power of the soul or logos. Man, 

it was considered, has many things in common with 
animals, but his reason is the mark which puts him 
in a class by himself. It does not exist even in germ 
in the brute creation, while, when we reach man, we 
find it full-grown even in the child, as is also the moral 
sense. A child can therefore be held accountable even 
as a grown person is. In reaction against this evi- 
dently false theory, we find it assumed, on the other 
hand, that a child can not reason at all until he comes 
to comparative maturity — in the twelfth or thirteenth 
year at least. 

With the development of genetic psychology, how- 
ever, this has all been changed. It is accepted now 
as an unquestionable fact that the mental life is a 
gradual and unbroken growth from the cradle to the 
grave, as much as is the growth of the body. The 
infant mind must contain in the germ the possibilities 
of the highest reasoning. True, it needs the sunlight, 



CONCEPTION AND REASONING 



H3 



air, and water of favorable surroundings to develop it, 
as any germ does, but it is waiting to be developed, 
except in the few unfortunates who are born with the 
possibility of only a slight development. 

Fruitful as this conception of regular growth has 
been in the other divisions of Child-Study, it has as yet 
been little used in the study of children's reasonings. 
Other traits are more characteristically childlike per- 
haps, and perhaps even yet the traditional idea of 
reason still holds an unconscious sway over us. How- 
ever this is, it is certain that but little material is avail- 
able on children's conceptions and reasonings. 

By imagination the child is freed to a large extent 

from time and place limitations in his combinations of 

ideas, and so can go on to combinations 

not duplicated in his own experience. In „°5°.^^ ^°^„° 
^ ^ and images. 

conception he finally goes beyond the indi- 
vidual in so far as he can frame an idea which applies 
equally to all individuals with certain similarities. In 
psychological terms, in conception for the first time we 
deal with universals or generals, while in perception, 
memory, and imagination we deal with particulars. In 
conception, the image in the mind is but a symbol for 
a large number of individual objects or ideas, much 
as, on a lower plane, the sensation in perception sym- 
bolizes all the other possible sensations from the 
object. When we think, for instance, of "tables," the 
idea that comes to our minds stands for round, square, 
oblong, four-legged, three-legged, and no-legged 
tables — all kinds of tables of all sizes, shapes and 
materials — the only common quality for them all 
being, perhaps, that they have flat tops and are used 
to put things on. 

10 



144 



THE tHILD 



But, to turn it about, it is evident that such a class 
idea or concept is derived in the first place from sense 
experiences. Through our comparisons of percep- 
tions or of images — which are derived from perceptions 
— we select the common qualities and combine them 
into a whole which can then stand for the class. 
Sometimes we select one object as a type, but even then 
we attend only to those qualities in it which all the 
other member's of its class also have. It is but a sym- 
bol. 

In forming a concept, then, certain steps are neces- 
sary: (i) perceptions or images of many objects; (2) 
comparison of these with each other; (3) selection of 
their common qualities; and (4) combination of these 
qualities into the class idea. 

This is the case when the child's mind is sufficiently 
developed so that he can compare two objects or ideas; 
but even before then there is a kind of consciousness 
of classes which does duty for a concept and is very 
closely connected with organic memory and habit. 
We will begin, accordingly, at this point, and then 
see when comparison first appears, and when a clear 
class idea or concept. 

In discussing perception, it was proved that by the 
third week the sight of the breast called out movements 

„, . toward it for nursing, and that from the 

First con- . . 

sciousness of third month on, recognition of objects m- 
ciasses. creased very rapidly. It was noted that 

this was to a large extent due to organic memory, and 
not to the presence of memory images. At this stage, 
therefore, a baby can not compare a present with a 
past experience, and only with difficulty two present 
ones. 



CONCEPTION AND REASONING 



145 



This first recognition goes into few details. Some 
strong impression appeals to the baby's senses, and 
any object that gives the same impression calls out the 
same reaction. Preyer's son showed a strong liking 
for white bottles of any sort, like his milk-bottle. 
Babies at first usually treat all men as they do their 
father, unless there is some striking peculiarity. If 
the mother remains much with the child, she is kept in 
a class by herself, but otherwise it is not at all uncom- 
mon for the baby to act toward all women as he does 
toward his mother. 

In such cases, there is a recognition, by means of 
organic memory of certain prominent characteristics, 
and there is a responsive movement of some sort. The 
first concept, is thus, according to Baldwin, a habitual 
response to a certain stimulus. 

We may say confidently that the possibility of 
comparison is not present at birth, for the various 
brain centers have then no fibers connect- 
ing them. During the first nine months, The first 

^ .^ . ' comparisons. 

however, the brain increases more in size 

and in connections between its parts than at any other 
period of life, so that we may expect to find compar- 
ison by the ninth month, and in all probability consid- 
erably earlier. 

When we speak of comparison, we simply mean 
noting the relationships between two objects or ideas. 
The two things must both be included in one mental 
act. Even if two objects are compared, then, it is 
evident that there must be at least enough memory to 
remember the first object while examining the second. 
Miss Shinn records the first memory and the first com- 
parison at the same time, in the beginning of the third 



146 



THE CHILD 



month, when her niece studied her and her mother 
alternately, for some time, turning her head from one 
to the other and examining them both intently. 

Perez gives what is clearly a case of comparison, 
although he does not seem to be sure of it, in describ- 
ing an eight months' old boy's experiences with two 
cats. The boy was playing with one cat when another 
cat of the same size and color entered the room. Sud- 
denly the child caught sight of it and apparently could 
hardly believe his eyes. He stared at it and then at 
the first cat, his body tense with attention and aston- 
ishment. He examined the two until he became satis- 
fied that they really were two different things, though 
so much alike. 

It seems probable from our knowledge of the growth 
of brain fibers and of the rise of memory images, that 
comparison begins in a feeble way in the third month. 
As soon as a child begins to speak, we have certain 
and numerous evidences of the similarities that he is 
constantly seeing between objects. All white animals 
of a certain size are "lammies"; all black ones, 
"doggies." The hairless doll is "Grandpa." Men 
without beards are boys even to the four-year-old, and 
the ten-cent piece is a baby dollar. 

We see comparison clearly when Mrs. Hall's child, 
at eight months, recognizes the real dog from the 
image on the mantel; when Preyer's boy, at about one 
year, compares his father's face with its reflection in 
the mirror; and in the case cited by Ribot, of the child 
who compared the ticking of the watch with that of the 
clock. We see here, as in the first class-conscious- 
ness, that only certain very obvious or interesting qual- 
ities strike the child's mind, and so his classification 



CONCEPTION AND REASONING j ^y 

by those qualities seems to us very funny or very 
pretty. We should add, however, that where there is a 
strong interest, the comparisons of a four-year-old child 
will average favorably with those of an uninterested 
adult. 

We have no data to show when a child first compares 
two ideas with each other. 

We may best describe the baby's condition when 
comparison has fairly begun by summarizing Baldwin's 
account of the origin of the concept. 

The child begins with an indefinite and vague whole, 
v/hich is both particular and general, percept and con- 
cept. Take for instance the pet kitten, the 
child's first experience with cats. The Origin of the 
individual and the class are to him the °°°°®^*" 
same at this point. He knows no class but the indi- 
vidual. But he meets now a big cat of a new color. 
He may not identify it with the first cat at all, but the 
chances are that he will. Percept and concept now 
begin to divide— the two individuals are alike in some 
wa,ys, so that both are called cats, and different in 
others, so that one is called Tiger and one Tom. Tiger 
scratches, Tom does not; but both are soft and warm 
and both purr. So his idea of a cat is a purring, warm, 
soft animal, that may or may not scratch. The next 
cat he sees may lick his fingers, and so, with every 
successive experience some qualities may be left out 
and others put in only as possibilities, until there is 
but a small nucleus of qualities belonging to all cats, 
and a large fringe of other characteristics that may 
belong to any particular Tabby or Tom. 

The amazing thing is that the baby learns so quickly 
to distinguish individuals from each other, and yet, at 



148 



THE CHILD 



the same time, to put them together into one class, as 
things to eat, things to drink, rolling things, and so 
on. Experience is his only teacher here, but experi- 
ence reinforced by pleasure and pain and by the 
natural impulses and instincts of the child is very 
powerful. 

It is important to the baby's safety and comfort 
that he should learn thus speedily to distinguish and 
associate. Take, for instance, the cats again. He 
likes the soft fur and warmth, but he gets scratched 
by Tiger. Now for a long time he may be afraid that 
all cats scratch, but if he learns that only Tiger 
scratches and Tom and Tabby do not, he gets the 
pleasure of playing with them and avoids the pain of 
Tiger's claws. That is, to state it generally again, a 
baby that learns most readily the qualities peculiar 
only to an individual and those common to a class, is 
the baby that is the most independent and the surest 
of safety. 

That the child's first concepts are incomplete is a 
foregone conclusion from what we have already said. 
Incomplete- ^'^ experiences with objects are necessa- 
ness of child's rily limited; he can not tell from the few 
concepts. people or houses or rivers that he has seen, 
which of their qualities are peculiar to them and which 
belong to all objects of their kind. When we add to 
this his imperfect observation and his small power of 
voluntary attention, we can see that correct concepts 
will be a late mental product. A child may have as 
wild an imagination as an adult, but an imagination 
that attends to universal and real qualities, as concep- 
tion does, is obtained only by long experience and 
training. 



CONCEPTION AND REASONING 



49 



The child's concepts are therefore too general in 
some cases and too particular in others. He does not 
put into the concept all the qualities that it ought to 
have, as in thinking that all white things are milk; 
or he puts in wrong ones, as in thinking that all 
rivers are dirty; or he combines both errors, as in 
thinking that blackness marks off dogs from sheep. 

We can, by a little adroit questioning of children, 
see all these errors in their concepts of common 
classes of objects, such as tables and chairs and people, 
while with the still more abstract concepts, such as 
number, distance, growth, time, and the self, the 
errors are all intensified. 

The baby's ideas of number are vague in the extreme; 
number in the abstract does not, of course, exist for 
him. He knows only many things or this 
one particular thing. At eighteen months number °^ 
Ribot says a child can distinguish concepts 
of one, two, and several. Dewey also notes that three 
children observed by him, varying in age from sixteen 
to twenty-eight months, paired off objects. Two could 
be counted but not three. At three years, Ribot says, 
a child can distinguish i, 2, and 4 or 2X2. The baby's 
first vague impressions of quantity and mass are made 
more distinct through his own movements in touching 
and handling objects, and he is also aided by the regu- 
lar alternations and rhythms in his experiences and in 
his bodily reactions. We know that in his first count- 
ing a little child is very likely to touch or tap as he 
counts and that he likes to group the objects or 
words in counting by pronounced accents. He enjoys 
singing the multiplication tables, for instance. We 
must also distinguish, with the little child, between 



I50 



THE CHILD 



repeating number names, and real counting. A child 
will often apparently count to a high number, but 
when asked to show ten objects or twenty objects, he 
will be at a loss. Not infrequently a child takes the 
name of the number for the name of the object. If, 
for instance, the third object happens to be a willow 
rocker, he may think it a "three." 

When a child has really learned to count, he delights 
in it, both counting the objects about him, and merely 
counting, without reference to particular objects. The 
boards in the sidewalk, the blades of grass, the stones 
in the road, are all enumerated, when he is not occu- 
pied in numbering up to hundreds of thousands, or to 
millions or billions. 

At first, the child's idea of growth is simply that of 
increase in size. It does not include the idea of 
increasing complexity of the parts. To the 
growth ° childish mind, a stone may grow as readily 
as a child. Mr. Sully has some speculations 
on childish ideas of growth which are interesting 
though, perhaps, not so general in their application as 
he believes. A child, he says, can not believe that 
things come from nothing or go to nothing; hence the 
natural idea of a cycle, babies growing to men, and 
men growing back to babies. Babies, a child is told, 
come from various places, heaven among others. He 
knows that they get larger by eating and drinking, and 
that after a time they stop growing and begin to shrink. 
Old people are frequently small, they are spoken of 
as childish, and when they die they are carried to 
heaven by the angels, hence they must grow still 
smaller after they die. I myself have never come 
across this idea, and I doubt whether it is a common 



CONCEPTION AND REASONING 



151 



one. Most children are satisfied as to the origin of an 
object by being told where it comes from, without 
questioning further the source of the place. 

As in the other cases, the first idea of self is obtained 
probably from a child's own feelings as he touches or 
sees himself and movies his body involun- 
tarily. This touch is different from the 3°!^''®^*°^ 
contact with other bodies, because there 
are two sensations instead of one, touching and being 
touched. By degrees, the child learns that his arms 
and legs belong to him, i.e., that he gets pleasures 
and pains from them, but he does not seem to identify 
them as closely with himself as he does his body. 
This is shown in some examples given by Sully — one 
child saying that his legs get in the way of himself. 
Another thinks that his stained feet are different from 
the ones he had in the morning. 

The odd ideas that children have about their bodies 
and the uses of the various parts are excellent illustra- 
tions of their attempts to straighten out all the strange 
things that they come across. 

At first the child's only sense of self is of his body, 
but after a time he begins to distinguish himself from 
his body. As far as I know, no extended observations 
have been made on how the transition comes about. 
We know that in the race history, it is effected through 
dreams, shadows and echoes, and we have isolated 
cases in children, like George Sand's, where the same 
thing occurs. When the child uses "I" and "me" 
instead of his name, he seems to have arrived at this 
idea. 

Of course a baby's first ideas of particular distances 
come from his own experiences in grasping and 



52 



THE CHILD 



creeping. Distance means the length of his arm, or 
the amount of creeping or walking that he does to get 
to an object. Feet and miles mean nothing 
diaJamse^*^ to him until he is able in some rough way to 
reduce them to his own efforts in walk- 
ing, reaching, or seeing. He puts together certain 
common factors from many experiences and thus gets 
a crude concept of a foot or a yard or a mile. But 
accurate concepts are slow to develop, for even grown 
people have imperfect ideas of a mile, and when it 
comes to five or ten miles, we take to measuring the 
distance by time. A place is fifteen minutes' walk, or 
half an hour's car ride away. 

This, however, probably means as little to a child as 
the space measurement. We all know how confused 
to a small child are the lengths of month 
ume.^^* °^ and yea^' of hour and minute. A child of 
three often has great difficulty in under- 
standing yesterday and day before yesterday. The 
time when his mother was a little girl was many 
years ago, at the same time when Caesar and Heracles 
lived. 

We have no data to show when children first get 
time concepts that are at all adequate, and the case is 
much the same with regard to other concepts. We 
know that, generally speaking, a child has developed 
beyond the gross inaccuracies by the time he is four- 
teen, but we know nothing of what classes of erroneous 
concepts are corrected first and what linger latest. 
There is room for much observation here. 

If it is true that a child's ideas of a class depend 
upon his experience with objects of the class, then it 
is evident that the first step toward getting a correct 



CONCEPTION AND REASONING 



^53 



idea is to give many objects with which to get acquain- 
ted. A child who has seen only one dog, can not know 
as much about dogs, other things being Forming 
equal, as the child who has played with correct 
several. A child who has seen but one river concepts, 
has a more imperfect idea of rivers than a child who has 
seen many. Of course, by far the best way is to show 
the children the actual object, but if this is impossible, 
pictures do a great deal, especially pictures that differ 
in minor details but agree in essentials. 

It is hardly enough, however, simply to put the vari- 
ous objects or pictures or ideas before the child. He 
should be led to judge whether the differences are so 
great that the objects can not be put into one class. 
The degree to which this comparison is carried out 
must be decided by the teacher. Kindergarten chil- 
dren notice only the more striking likenesses and differ- 
ences, but in the ninth year a great awakening occurs. 

Such comparison is quite as important as having 
many objects because it means, once more, the form- 
ing of associations which bind the child's world of 
thought into a whole, and it lays the foundation for the 
systematic reasoning which occurs in later life. 

We have already answered indirectly the question of 
whether general ideas can exist before language. It 
seems unquestionable, from the way that a conceDtion 
child acts toward objects that are alike, andian- 
that he does have some class ideas before suage. 
he has learned to speak. 

On the other hand, there can be no doubt that lan- 
guage facilitates the formation of concepts because it 
provides a convenient form in which to keep the idea. 
Then, too, when the baby learns to speak, the great 



154 



THE CHILD 



widening in his ability to get what he wants is a pow- 
erful stimulus to mental activity, and to the naming of 
things. 

The first questions are usually about what things are, 
and this often means only what their names are. The 
fact that this thing is a "dictionary" is itself satisfying 
enough to rest in for some time. Some children seem 
to have a mania for learning the names of objects; 
they seek for the Christian name of every fish and 
insect and leaf, and when the wearied mother tells 
them that there are no such names for them, the child in 
pity christens them himself. Some anthropologists see 
in this a survival of the early worship and fear of the 
word as a living thing. The Scriptures tell us that the 
Israelites dared not pronounce the true name of Jeho- 
vah ; in the Middle Ages, it was believed that there were 
words whose potency was sufficient to summon all the 
powers of evil to the aid of the bold man who spoke 
them; and so, in the little child's satisfaction with a 
name, there is perhaps an implicit belief that it has 
a certain force of its own. 

For a long time a child is ,at the mercy of verbal 
sounds, mistaking words for others that sound like 
them but are spelled differently, or getting the wrong 
word. We all have some choice examples of this. 
Here are two: One child sang lustily, 

"Dare to be a spaniel (Daniel), 
Dare to stand alone, 
Dare to have a purple spine (purpose fine), 
And dare to make it known !" 

Another one, when asked by her father what she had 
learned in Sunday school that morning, told him 
earnestly that the minister said that "he must put his 



CONCEPTION AND REASONING 



155 



trousers in heaven, where the moths could not get at 
them!" 

However, when a child begins to question what 
things are like, the question of what things are begins 
to mean what they are like. 

The period before nine when all the quaint, childish 
fancies that so delight us control the child, is espe- 
cially the age of imagination. The odd 
comparisons between familiar things, the a^d^ea^on^ 
imagining of a situation that may have led 
up to present conditions, are fancies, but they are also 
attempts to make the world a unified and reasonable 
one. We have seen that the child's first class idea is 
the same as his idea of the individual, and is separated 
from it only through varying experience. So his first 
reason is an image or a craving, as is also the reason 
of many adults, and takes the form of logic only w^ith 
a later development. When we ask a child why he 
did this, it is hard for him to say, because his reason 
is probably only a desire, a picture of himself enjoy- 
ing a certain .thing, and it is hard to put this into 
words. "Because," or "Because I wanted it," is as 
far as he can go. 

In reasoning a more developed form of thought 
than a conception is reached, for in it the relations 
which were taken for granted before are conception 
now stated. The concept of table includes and 
the ideas of a flat top and of usefulness to reasoning, 
put things on; but the reasoning about tables, expounds 
that this is a table because all tables have the same qual- 
ities that this has. We recognize clearly now relations 
that before have either been unseen or only obscurely 
seen. 



156 



THE CHILD 



Reasoning takes three common forms — the tracing 
of a particular cause to a particular effect; the dis- 
covery of a law or truth or system from observation of 
particular facts; and the classifying under an already 
known law the facts afterward observed. We will con- 
sider the child's reasoning under these heads. 

Throughout all the child's thinking, as in his imag- 
ining, he works from a personal world to an imper- 
Reasoning sonal. His first ideas of cause and effect 
from cause are doubtless obtained from his own move- 
to effect, ments and their results, and the sense of 
power appears to have its rise with the first volitions 
or persistent imitations in the period between four and 
six months. During this period the child seems to be 
experimenting to see what he can do. He repeats and 
varies a movement ad infijiitum, discovering the possi- 
bilities and limitations of his movements, and at every 
step connecting a given movement with a certain objec- 
tive result. Thus he learns that he can always get certain 
things by doing certain others, and has the feeling of 
himself as a power or cause. In all his experiences, 
he and others like him are, more than anything else, 
the causes, or movers of things. He sees very little 
of impersonal natural causes. This strengthens what 
seems to be his instinctive tendency to refer all results 
to a personal cause. As Sully puts it: "He starts with 
the amiable presupposition that all things have been 
hand-produced, after the manner of household posses- 
sions. The world is a sort of big house where every- 
thing has been made by somebody, or at least fetched 
from somewhere." "To ask zvho made the animals, the 
babies, the wind, the clouds, etc., is for him merely to 
apply the more familiar type of causation as the 



CONCEPTION AND REASONING 1^7 

normal rule." One three-year-old girl thought that 
when the water spurted from the faucet, it was choking 
because it coughed. One child of four years thought 
that r?/w«;/^ water was alive; and another, that wind- 
mills were alive because they moved. Most small 
mothers think that their dolls or pets must like the 
same things that they do themselves. 

Observations have been made upon kindergarten 
children to ascertain when they first asked "why." It 
was found that all children had asked "why" before 
the third year, and 75 per cent of the boys asked it 
before the second year. The first real interest in the 
idea of cause, however, is not usually shown by the 
firsts "why"; but appears between six months and a 
year later in 70 per cent of the children. 

The objects which call out this first question vary 
considerably in boys and girls, seeming to point to 
certain differences in the natural interests of the two. 
Thus 75 per cent of the boys' questions relate to natural 
causes, while only 30 per cent of the girls' do. Such 
questions as, "Why does it grow dark?" "How does 
God make it thunder?" fall here. Fifty per cent of 
the boys ask questions about movements, such as "Why 
do wheels go?" "Why do horses run?", while only 
25 per cent of the girls are first interested in move- 
ment. Twenty-five per cent of the boys are curious 
about the adaptation of structure to function: "Why 
do birds have wings?" "Why does Towser have four 
legs and I only two?" The girls have little interest 
in this. 

On the other hand, the girls ask more first questions 
about God and Christ, and about domestic affairs. 
Both boys and girls always show great persistency in 



158 



THE CHILD 



following up a question with others until a satisfactory 

answer is obtained. 

Along with this idea of personal cause goes the other 

idea, that everything has a purpose behind it, and so 

we find children ready to believe that the 

i?f™L sun rises for them to get up by, that the 

purpose. fc. r ^ ' 

flowers grow for them to pick, that the rain 
is trying to plague them, and so on. 

We can realize how deep in human nature lies 
this tendency to make man the center of all things, 
when we find the earliest men, the savage races of 
to-day, and even the civilized man himself doing the 
same thing. 1 fancy that there are few of us who have 
not at some time been thoroughly angry with some 
object or material that we could not control as we 
wished. In early times inanimate things and animals 
had legal punishment meted out to them as to persons. 

In these first experiences, what reasoning there is, 
is usually only an association of one thing with 
another. Thus the child who learns that 
L^^'o'c'iaSon.^ the father gets home and then supper fol- 
lows, may reverse the procedure and sup- 
pose that getting supper ready is the cause of the 
father's arrival. 

The assertions that the object of Thanksgiving is so 
that we can have turkey, and of Christmas so that we 
can have presents, combine both forms. Little by little, 
the child is forced to discard a personal agency for a 
simple sequence of events, and so he seems to become 
less imaginative. 

Of cause in the sense of reason, he seems to have 
little idea as yet. Sequence and analogy of sequence 
govern his thought. Mr. Brown gives numerous 



CONCEPTION AND REASONING 



159 



instances of this. Thus one boy would be a minister 
so he could have the money from the collection boxes. 
One little girl said she was a woman now because she 
had a butter plate given her instead of having her 
bread spread. 

Preyer's boy in the fifth month first connected move- 
ments with the following noises: the tearing of paper, 
the jingling of keys, the opening and. shutting of a 
drawer with the accompanying sound. He would strike 
a spoon against a plate, listen, and then repeat it as if 
trying to see where the sound came from. His delight 
in producing such results was at its maximum during 
the tenth month, and Preyer believes this indicates the 
knowledge that he was an agent or cause. But even 
then he had not learned that objects, when dropped, 
fall to the ground, and gaped with astonishment to 
see them go. 

By degrees, however, definite sequences are estab- 
lished, and then occurs the reasoning which is so ludi- 
crous to us and so sensible to the child. 
One child thought that a person with gray ^f sequences, 
eyes must be old. Another of three years 
and three months thought that a card lying on the floor 
was the cause of the sewing-machine not going, because 
when his mother got up to pull the machine out from 
the wall, she first picked up the card from the floor. 

Analogy of sequences is seen in such cases as these: 
One child of two and a half thought that her baby 
sister only needed larger shoes in order to walk; 
another, that her eyes were bright because the sun 
shone into them as into a room; another of five, that 
men are filled with sawdust, like dolls; a boy of five, 
that standing in the rain until he got soaked would 
11 



l6o "^^HE CHILD 

make him grow fast, as it does seeds, so that he could 
wear "pants!" One girl of six, when told that gum 
was grease and was not good, reasoned thus: "Lard is 
in doughnuts, lard is grease. It's good!" and contin- 
ued chewing. A boy of five reasoned that thunder was 
made in heaven in the same way that sounds are made 
in a sawmill. A girl of seven was afraid to eat apple 
seeds, lest they grow up to trees. Another wondered 
why, if she were dust, she did not turn to mud when 
she drank water. One girl thought her brother pale 
because he washed so much. Then, too, there is the 
little boy who thriftily planted his dime to have it 
grow, and another who planted bird seed to get more 
birds and sardine cans to get more sardines. Again, 
one boy thought his mother could round some pieces 
of cloth better if she had a poker to use as the motor- 
man uses his to get around a corner. The small boy 
who had lost a tooth and thought the new tooth of his 
baby sister must be his, is not alone in his reasoning. 
Such examples show us how vague the child's ideas 
are. He has to learn that balls will roll away if his 
hands let go of them; that he can use his hands to 
move things, and so on. When we consider that a 
child begins life with no knowledge, we must admit 
that to learn so much in the short space of a year he 
reasons much instead of little. 

This purely temporal relation of one event to another, 
if it be a constant one, gives to the child his first idea 
of law and order. In his contact with 
andorder^ nature, he experiences certain fixed se- 
quences, such as the seasons and day and 
night. In his contact with people, and in the ordering 
of his daily life he should find the same thing in all 



CONCEPTION AND REASONING l5l 

cases where his mature mind will later justify the order 
by reasons. Just in proportion as we, his elders, arrange 
our lives and his according to an order controlled by 
laws, shall we help him to untangle the essential from 
the unessential. 

Plato in discussing the proper education of youth, 
makes the point that we can not get citizens who are 
obedient to law in later life, unless we have trained 
them to a respect for law in childhood. Now, what 
Plato says of civil law is equally applicable to law in 
its widest sense. The child who is given meals at 
irregular hours, who is never trained to habits of 
bathing and cleaning the teeth, of sleeping, and so 
on, will never have a respect for the laws of his body. 
If he is trained to the fallacy that he can eat and drink 
just as he pleases, without bad results, that he can 
sleep or not and feel just the same, that he can bathe 
or not, and still be clean, he can not have the belief in 
cause and effect that the child who has been taught to 
observe regularity in all such things has. Order or 
regularity is the same as law to the little child; and to 
primitive peoples also custom, or the usual way, is the 
law. The reason upon which this law rests becomes 
apparent only later. Hence it is our part to see 
that children acquire habits or customs of orderly 
acting and thinking, customs which need not be dis- 
turbed when reason passes them in review. So shall 
respect and obedience to law be a work of love and not 
of duty. 

To many it will probably seem rather pretentious to 
class the modest efforts of children to make their 
world into a connected whole under inductive reason- 
ing, which is the method of scientists. But precisely 



l52 THE CHILD 

because the two are not usually associated in our 

thought, we wish to unite them here. The child mind 

Inductive is trying, though spasmodically, to reach 

reasoning or to a system of thought. He does not like 
attempts at ^^ • , • i i 111 1 1 • 

system to live m a chaotic world, and although his 

making. efforts to produce order are greatly lim- 

ited by his inexperience and by his undeveloped power 
of attention, the desire for unity which impels him is 
the same as that which impels the scientist. 

In discussing the child's thoughts about nature, 
Sully says that we can see some crude attempts to form 
a system and to get back to the first cause which will 
explain all else. In what little we know of the child's 
naive thoughts on this subject we are strongly reminded 
of the speculations of the early philosophers. The 
child, too^, wonders who made God; who were the first 
people and who took care of them when they were 
babies; where the first hen came from, and so on. The 
child, like the race, seems first to ask "why" and 
only later to become interested in "how" and satis- 
fied with it. 

When he comes to frame his cosmology, things are 
taken for what they seem. The earth is flat and the 
sky round; the stars and the moon shine through holes 
in the sky and are lamps for God or the angels. 
Natural phenomena like thunder and lightning, storms, 
wind, etc., are caused by God for some definite pur- 
pose of His own. 

Most children have some such imperfect system, 
which they fill out from time to time in detail. Thus 
one boy of six after watching the smoke rising from a 
locomotive said he knew now that smoke made the 
sky. This was not so bad for a city-dweller. 



CONCEPTION AND REASONING 



163 



The consistency of these childish reasonings is a 
subject on which we have as yet few exact data. Earl 
Barnes assures us that it is difficult for a 
child to hold a whole subject in his mind f^reisonTng. 
because his thinking is fragmentary. In 
drawing the story of the "Three Bears, " for instance, a 
child will often forget the story in his delight in draw- 
ing the bears, and will fill the paper with bears and 
nothing else. This is doubtless true to a certain 
extent. We have already seen that the little child's 
interest is an immediate one, and that he does not 
clearly distinguish means from ends. 

Still, we must not suppose that a child sees no con- 
nection between cause and effect, and does no con- 
nected thinking. Observations made by Miss Lillian 
Clow seem, on the contrary, to show that when chil- 
dren have once made an assumption about an object, 
they hold to that fairly well in the rest of their think- 
ing about that object. 

Miss Clow* collected data from 360 children, 40 of 
each grade from kindergarten through eighth grade, in 
order to see how their reasoning changed as they grew 
older. She selected a sea porcupine as an object with 
which the children were unfamiliar, so that their 
reasoning would not be directly influenced by their 
knowledge, but which was yet striking enough to 
arouse curiosity and stimulate thought. This was 
shown to the children and they were asked these ques- 
tions among others: 

I. What does it look like? 

♦Unpublished data from Chicago school children. The object 
was a beautiful specimen of a sea porcupine. The tables are 
given in per cents. 



164 



THE CHILD 



2. What do you think it is? Why? 

3. Where did it come from ? What makes you 
think so? 

4. If it moved from one place to another, how did 
it go? 

The following tables show the answers. 



Question i 



Fish 

Porcupine. 

"Porcupine fish' 
Miscellaneous . . 



Kg. 

15 


I 

371 


2 
40 


3 

47i 


4 


5 


6 


7 


8 


52-1 


85 


50 


52^- 


27 i 





H. 


17 


22 


15 


7 


42 


15 


42 











7 





2 





TO 





" 


55 


37 


17 


27 


5 


7 


17 


30 



Total 



45^ 

18 

2 

31 



Question 2 


Kg. 

17 

6 

62 


I 


2 


3 


4 


5 


6 


7 


8 


Total 


Fish 

Porcupine 


52 
5 


37 


57 

25 



12 


57 
20 

5 
12 


62 

25 



TO 


87 
7 
2 
2 


65 

25 

2 

7 


85 
2 

TO 
2 


80 
12 



5 


64 

io| 

2 

17 


"Porcupine fish". . . 
Miscellaneous 



Question 3 



Sea or ocean.. 
Lake, river. . . 
Geog. place. . . 
Miscellaneous. 



Kg. 


T 


2 


3 


4 


5 


^ 


7 


8 


2 


22 


40 


40 


45 


75 


37 


77 


65 


15 


30 


42 


25 


20 


T2 


TO 


2 


10 


2 


2 


7 


5 


2 


12 


42 


17 


22 


67 


40 


TO 


25 


27 





TO 


2 


2 



Total 



45 \ 63 1= 
t8 j Water 

I2| 
20| 



Question 4 



Swam . 

Crawled or walked. 
Rolled 



Kg. 
17 


I 


2 


3 


4 


5 


6 


7 


8 


47 


70 


57 


67 


87 


65 


87 


77 


25 


15 


T2 


30 


TO 


2 


20 


5 


5 


17 


12 


10 


12 


10 


10 


7 


2 


12 



Totals 



64 

TI 
TO 



One of the interesting things in these tables is to see 
how the per cent of miscellaneous answers decreases 
from the kindergarten up. Whereas 69 per cent of the 
kindergarten children give such different answers that 



CONCEPTION AND REASONING 



165 



they can not be classified, only 5 per cent of the fifth 
grade and a somewhat larger number of the eighth 
grade do. This seems to show the effect of the inter- 
change of ideas in training all children to similar 
habits of thought so that they reason in much the 
same way even on new subjects. 

In discussing the consistency of the answers, we see 
how well the children hold to a standard that they have 
chosen. Thus if a child says in the first Deductive 
answer that the strange animal looks like a reasoning or 
ri 1- rii -1 1-1/- Classifying 

risn and is a tish because it has little nns, byastand- 

and that it will live in water, and swim, ^^^i- 

he is thoroughly consistent throughout with his first 

assumption that it was like a fish. 

The answers to the first three questions were clearly 
consistent in 51}^ per cent of the individual papers, 
and clearly inconsistent in i6>^ per cent. In the 
remaining cases the child's thought seemed confused. 
These per cents were distributed as follows: 





Kg. 


I 


2 


3 


4 


5 


6 


7 


8 


Totals 


Consistent 

Inconsistent .... 


28 
10 


26 
16 


61 

20 


53 
23 


44 

18 


72 
19 


74 
19 


82 
13 


78 
17 


51 
16 



We should hardly seem justified from these figures 
in concluding that even the little child's thought is 
predomijiantly fragmentary. It ma}^ be true that the 
systematic questioning made the children relate their 
answers more closely than they would have if left to 
themselves, so that the percentage of consistency may 
be a little higher than it should be; but even so it 
would seem that a child's thought is not so much incon- 
sistent as it is incomplete. 



l66 THE CHILD 

The improvement in consistency from 28)^ per cent 
in the kindergarten to 78 per cent in eighth grade is 
very marked, and is closely paralleled by Mr. Han- 
cock's observations on reasoning about numbers. They 
show an improvement from 40 per cent of correct 
reasonings at the age of seven years to 86 per cent at 
fifteen. 

Mr. Hancock experimented upon one thousand chil- 
dren from seven to fifteen years old, to find the rate of 

increase in ability to reason on arithmetical 
Experiment -" . 

witharith- problems. He gave problems with such 

meticai small numbers that no difficulty could be ex- 

problems. . , . . , , • , 

penenced m using them, making the entire 

dif^culty one of reasoning. He found that the errors de- 
creased from 60 per cent with the boys at seven, and 63 
per cent with the girls at seven, to 18 per cent with the 
boys at fifteen and 21 per cent with the girls. From 
the seventh to the eighth year, there is an increase in the 
number of errors, for both boys and girls, followed by 
a rapid decrease at nine, and a still greater decrease at 
thirteen and fifteen; but at fourteen the boys make 
almost as many errors as at twelve. The boys are 
slightly better than the girls except between seven 
and nine, and at fourteen. The greatest difference is 
in the period between eight and nine, when the girls 
are 8 per cent to 11 per cent better than boys. From 
the eleventh to the twelfth year, the percentages are 
nearly equal. 

Notice how closely these variations tn reasoning fol- 
low the variations in growth that we have already 
traced, the periods of lessened ability to reason coin- 
ciding with those of rapid growth in height; those of 
greater, with increase in weight. 



CONCEPTION AND REASONING 



67 



A simpler form of deductiv^e reasoning is seen in the 
adaptation of means to ends, as when the year-old child 
pulls the tablecloth over to bring a dish Adapting 
within reach, or climbs into a chair for the meansto 
same purpose. Or when the three-year-old ®^ ®' 
feigns a cough in order to get some cough drops. A 
more elaborated form is seen in the boy of four who 
wanted to get a bone from a dog. When he found that 
he could not catch the dog by chasing him, he got a 
stick and brought it to the dog to smell. In smelling, 
the dog dropped the bone, and after one unsuccessful 
trial the boy got it. Akin to this is the thriftiness of 
the boy who, when given some money, bought some 
court-plaster "because I might need it some time." 
We have also the numberless plans to escape punish- 
ment. One little child scrawled the newly papered 
wall, and when confronted with a whipping by an 
indignant mother, appealed to her affections thus: 
"I just writed a letter to my dear papa. Ain't my 
papa lobely?" 

The various examples brought together in this 
chapter show that while reasoning and conception are 
imperfect in children, nevertheless they play a promi- 
nent part in the child's mental activity. The account 
of them has necessarily been imperfect because so few 
observations have been made, but we believe, never- 
theless, that enough has been said to show that the 
subject is well worthy a more careful consideration 
than it has yet received. 

In considering what use parents and teachers can 
make of the facts given above, the problem of the value 
of children's questions presents itself first. There is a 
certain kind of questioning into which some children 



l68 THE CHILD 

fall automatically. They do not ask because they do 
not hear or because they want to know, but simply 

, for the sake of saying something. Usu- 
Educational ,, t . . s ^ 

bearings. ally, if no answer is given them they wan- 
Children's der on to something else, and from that to 
questions. , . ,^ 

something else, frequently they them- 
selves know the answer to the question they ask. 
Such a bad habit can usually be broken by asking in 
turn of the child the question he has asked, thus making 
him realize how foolish or how thoughtless he has 
been. However, when a child waits for an answer, 
and persists in the question, he should be answered in 
as true and scientific a way as he can understand, and 
should be encouraged to ask more questions, instead 
of being repressed. 

Wonder, or curiosity in the good sense, is the root 
of all love of knowledge, and it is one of the greatest 
discredits to our present school system that it is more 
likely to crush this tendency than to nurture it into 
the scientific spirit. The child who enters school 
curious at every point, overflowing with questions, 
and brimful of wonder and reverence at the mysterious 
things about him, becomes in a few years passive and 
quiet, a receptacle for any information that is poured 
into him, and blind to any value or beauty that it has. 
The teacher asks all the questions and he has to answer 
them. Seldom are the tables turned. Such a condi- 
tion is very different from the ideal school, in which 
there is a constant give and take in question and 
answer between teacher and pupils, and where both 
teacher and pupils are learners. Both have doubts 
to settle, and can settle them best by a free discus- 
sion, 



CONEPTION AND REASONING I69 

Again, we often do not know how to answer a child's 
question in a way that he can understand. When he asks 
why it thunders, or why the leaves fall off, it is puz- 
zling to know what to say. Often, if we can cite 
some similar case, it satisfies him. If he has ever 
seen an electric spark, he will probably be contented 
to know that the lightning and thunder are just a big 
spark and the noise that it makes. Such an answer has 
the further advantage of connecting in the child's mind 
similar phenomena, and of forming the habit of looking 
for such similarities. Certainly it is useless to give 
the child superstitions about such well understood sci- 
entific facts as these. There is, however, the question 
of whether we should answer a child imaginatively or 
literally. Mr. Sully is authority for the statement that 
when a child is in the imaginative age between four 
and eight we can best answer such questions as why 
the leaves fall, by saying that they are tired of hang- 
ing on the trees. We can say that Jack Frost draws 
the pictures on the window-pane, and in various ways 
assume, as the child himself does at this time, that all 
causes are persons. In this connection we have also 
the much mooted question of whether we shall teach 
children to believe in Santa Claus and fairies. 

There is, I believe, a point to be made here which 
sets a standard for the sort of answer to be given. It is 
certainly true that the child from four to eight years old 
lives in a world that is personal through and through, 
and that he delights in Santa Claus and fairies. Now, 
the point is this: Can we not answer his questions 
imaginatively, and still in such a way as to present 
the scientific truth, though not in a literal form? 
There is a certain truth in the statement that the leaves 



170 



THE CHILD 



are tired of hanging on to the trees, and that they drop 
off because they are old and weak. The child who has 
been told this goes on easily when he can to the knowl- 
edge of the changes in the leaf that dry it and let it 
drop off. The essential thing is to state the truth as 
nearly as we can, though in the imaginative form, and 
not to give a child the imaginative answer when he is 
old enough for the scientific one. 

Finally, to cultivate a child's reasoning powers, 
there is no better way than to start with his own ques- 
tion, and answer enough of it to give 
^"a^^^^n^^ him the necessary information and the 
curiosity to think out the rest of the 
answer. Constantly suggest the question of how this 
fact is related to that: If leaves drop off because they 
are tired, why do not the oak and evergreen leaves get 
tired? Or do they get tired too? Why do the leaves 
come out in the spring? If lightning is an electric 
spark, why don't we use it in our houses, as we do 
electricity? Lead the child, through imitation and 
suggestion, to form the habit of questioning and of 
thinking out the answers to the questions. 

Conception and reasoning, like all other mental 
processes, are of gradual growth, and are to be found, 
in germ, even in the baby. The infant's 
class ideas differ from those of the adult in 
being vague, and in containing, as a rule, but few 
qualities instead of many. His ideas are also usually 
inaccurate, because based upon an experience with 
but few objects of the class, and those objects not 
carefully compared. 

The first ideas of cause and law are derived from 
experience and refer both causes and laws to persons. 



CONCEPTION AND REASONING 



171 



By degrees the idea is enlarged to include impersonal 
forces, and the reason. 

In like manner number, space, and time concepts 
are applied at first only to particular objects, spaces, 
and times. 

In all cases, the widening of the ideas is effected by 
the widening and comparison of experiences. The 
value of questions and of the habit of connecting as 
many events as possible is inestimable, therefore, in 
the formation of correct concepts and correct reasoning. 

REFERENCES 

Baldwin, J. Mark. Menial Development: Methods and Proc- 
esses. Section on Origin of Conception. N. Y. Mac- 
millan, 1 1.7 5. 

Brown, H. W. Thoughts and Reasonings of Children. Ped. 
Sent., 1892. Vol. 11,358-396. (A collection of examples of 
reasoning.) 

Clapp, H. L. Educative Value of Children's Question. Pop. Sc. 
Mo., 1896, Vol. XLIX, 799-809, (Good; stimulating.) 

Davis, Anna I. Interest in Causal Idea. C. S. M., Vol. II, 226-232. 

Dewey, John. Psychology of Number. Ped. Setn., Vol. V, 
426-434. 

Hall, G. S. Contents of Children's Minds on Entering School. 
Ped. Sei?i., 1 891, 139-173. Also in pamphlet form. N. Y. 
Kellogg, I0.25. 

Hancock, J. A. Children's Abihty to Reason. Educ. Rev., 1896, 
261-268. 

James, W. Thought before Language. Phil. Rev., I. 

McLellan and Dewey. Psychology of Number. N. Y. Apple- 
ton, $1.50. 

Perez, B. Developpement des Idees Abstraites chez 1' Enfant. 
Rev. Phil., XL, 449-467. 

Perez, B. First Three Years of Childhood. 163-223. Elabora- 
tion of ideas. Syracuse. Bardeen, $1.50. 

Ribot, Th. Evoliitiofi of General Ideas, esp. 31-39, 86-137, 
180-213. Chicago. Open Court, $1.25. 



172 



THE CHILD 



General ideas of Children and Deaf Mutes. Open Court, 

1899, 164-75. 
Small, M. H. Instinct for Certainty. Ped. Sent., 1898, 381-420. 
Sully, James, Studies of Childhood. 64-91. N. Y, Appleton, 

$2,50. (Good.) 
Tracy, F. Physiology of Childhood. 75-82. Thinking. Boston. 

Heath, $0.90 



CHAPTER IX 

Religious Sentiment and Theological Ideas 

Question the children on the following points: 

1. God. Where is He? What does He do? Why 
can we not see Him? Observa- 

2. Death. Why do people die? Where ^^^^^^^'^^^^j 
do they go? fromEarle 

3. Heaven. Where is it? Who go there? Barnes.) 
What do they do there? What will children have 
there? 

4. Hell. What must a person do to go there? What 
is it like? 

5. Angels. What do they do? 

6. Ghosts. Why are people afraid of them? 

7. Witches. What can they do? 

8. Prayer. Why do people pray? Why do they not 
get what they pray for? 

9. Why do people celebrate Christmas? Wny do 
they go to church? 

In entering upon a subject on which there are so 

many differing opinions; a word as to the standpoint 

taken is necessary. The attempt is made 

1 1 ^ J. 1. • u- A Introduc- 

here, as elsewhere, to state in an unbiased ^.^^ 

way all the facts so far reached by actual 

observation and questioning of children and adults, 

and to draw only what conclusions are warranted 

by those facts. The fundamental principle that the 

teaching of childhood largely determines the adult's 

belief is the idea which is here worked out in 

173. 



174 



THE CHILD 



detail. The close connection between physical and 
mental states also receives further emphasis from the 
study of religious phenomena, and we do not believe 
that religion is belittled by the acknowledgment of 
this connection, any more than natural science is. 
Rather, the necessity of religion is emphasized. 

The attempt to sum up religious feelings, conver- 
sions, etc., in tables may also seem to some to be, from 
the very nature of the case, futile. It must be remem- 
bered, however, that these data are obtained from the 
individuals undergoing the experiences thus tabulated, 
just as were the data for imagination, memory, etc., 
and are reliable to the same degree. Doubtless more 
data are needed to corroborate those given, but equally 
are more needed to discredit them. They are simply 
contributions to aid in solving the difficult problem of 
religious instruction. 

At the outset, it is necessary to differentiate certain 
terms that in common consciousness overlap or are 
Morality confused. Morality, religion and theology 
religion and are not identical, and yet it is difficult to 
t eo ogy. separate them. The difference may per- 
haps be stated concisely thus: They represent three 
aspects of human nature— religion is the feeling or 
longing for unity, the feeling of sin, the consciousness 
of imperfection and the striving for harmony with the 
good. It is primarily emotional, not volitional or 
intellectual. Theology is the interpretation which the 
intellect gives; the formulating, or the explanation of 
this feeling of incompleteness and striving for perfec- 
tion. Morality, again, is the code of action and the 
actual living toward perfection as we conceive it, the 
holding of right relations to our fellow-men and to 



Religious sentiment and theological ideas 171? 

God. Theology gives the mental content to religious 
feeling, and morality is religion incarnate. A man 
may then be religious, that is, he may have the relig- 
ious spirit, without believing in any creed or dogma, 
and, indeed, so Mr. Leuba says, without believing in a 
God, if he has this active longing for perfection, for a 
better than he. His theology may be science or 
philosophy, or any kind of knowledge whatever. 

If we accept this general statement we can easily see 
that theologies and systems of morality will vary from 
age to age, according to public opinion and the prog- 
ress of knowledge; but that the underlying religious 
feeling, the striving of the self toward a better self, 
will remain as the source or motive of all our theologiz- 
ing and moralizing. Marshall, indeed, maintains that 
there is a religious instinct, an inborn desire to reach 
beyond one's petty self, and that this is the root of all 
altruism — the emphasis of the race as against the indi- 
vidual. 

Froebel also maintains that thq germ of the relig- 
ious spirit exists even in the baby, in the feeling of 
community and dependence between him- Religious 
self and the mother; and Baldwin, voicing spirit and 
the opinion of many writers of to-day, ^°"^^ ^p^"*' 
looks upon the religious sentiment as the highest out- 
growth of the ethical and social sentiments. We 
can not, he believes, say properly that the little child is 
religious except as he is social. His first love, trust, 
and dependence, are directed toward the people about 
him. Only later, and by slow degrees, does he learn 
to transfer these feelings to an invisible God. 

In these relations to people, he is developing more 
sense (i) of his own personality, and (2) of that of 
12 



176 



THE CHILD 



others. This latter phase is the important one for us 
at present and takes two forms: 

(i) Ejective. The child constantly interprets others 
by himself. 

(2) Projective. A person whom the child does not 
fully understand imposes requirements upon him, thus 
causing a feeling of dependence in the child. 

In the religious sentiment, the first element gives 
content; the second, mystery and awe. 

Thus we find that children interpret God, heaven, 
etc., in terms of their familiar experience, making. 
Child's oftentimes, the most grotesque and bizarre 

images of combinations. God is a big man and Satan 
®°^" a bogie, heaven is a glorified earth, and so 

all along the line. The little child looks on father or 
mother much as adults do on God, and relying upon 
them for help, learns his first lessons in religious trust 
and faith. The constant comparisons of God to a father 
may have their root in this underlying relationship. 

So, also, the child may look upon any person or thing 
that is very strong as a God. Sully quotes the case of a 
little boy of four years who, on seeing a group of work- 
men, asked his mother if they were gods, "because they 
make houses and churches same as God makes moons 
and people and ickle dogs." The idea of God is, at 
first, only that of a person more powerful than others. 

As the child's mind develops, he comes to look upon 
father and mother as the all-wise to whom obedience 
must be given and from whom knowledge may be 
obtained, but who must also, on occasion, be deceived 
or propitiated. God is then the great lawgiver. 

The question of whether a child left without any 
religious instruction at all would form an idea of God, 



RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT AND THEOLOGICAL IDEAS 177 

is difficult to answer, for all children hear more or less 

talk about religious matters. There is, howe\'er, a case 

of an uninstructed deaf-mute, M. d'Estrella, -«. „^ ,, 

' _ ' EflFect of no 

who formed for himself the idea of a religious 
"Strong Man behind the hills, who threw the ^^^^^i^s- 
sun up into the sky, puffed the clouds from his pipe, 
and sent out the wind when he was angry." It would 
be strange, indeed, if any reflectiv^e mind did not 
reach some idea of a cause of the world, and the first 
tendency is always to make the cause a person. 

It seems very probable that children deriv^e their 
religious ideas in part from the awe and reverence 
inspired by natural phenomena and from the inherent 
tendency to read personality into all unexplained 
events. This is one of the factors in the development 
of religion in the race which the child repeats in his 
growth. We have, however, very few data to show 
how strong the factor is in the modern child, and we 
may question whether his contact with people does not 
so overshadow his contact with nature that the social 
factor in worship is far stronger than the nature 
factor. 

We have also one full account* of the theological 
ideas of a boy brought up without religious training, 
whose parents were opposed to current 
religious ideas, but who was accidentally account^ 
informed of religious matter^ by neighbors 
and occasional attendance at church. It is interesting 
as showing the effect of early surroundings in as 
marked a way as the other records to be quoted later. 

No religious instruction was given this boy and he 
was not told his parents' belief until fifteen years of 

*Bergen's, 



178 



THE CHILD 



age; servants were warned not to speak of religious 
matters, no grace was asked at table, and all religious 
terms used in his presence were spelled. Naturally 
he became very curious to know what the spelled 
words meant. He first went to church to an Easter 
service when seven years of age, but did not under- 
stand at all the symbolism of the spring time resurrec- 
tion. When ten years old, he went for the second 
time to a Catholic vesper service, at which he was 
impressed by a large painting of Christ. When twelve 
years of age he was encouraged to go to church, but 
showed great distaste for it. 

He knew something about death even when three 
years old, but had no fear of it until eleven, when a 
physical shrinking, which he did not outgrow for 
several years, manifested itself. He was unable to 
conceive of the soul as immaterial at ten years of age, 
and hunted for it in all parts of dead animals. At 
twelve, he said that the resurrection could not have 
happened, for in respect to death people were in the 
same condition now that they were two thousand years 
ago. He grew very eager to read the Bible, because he 
noticed that people spoke differently of it from what 
they did of other books; but when a New Testament 
was given him, at the age of ten, he soon tired of it. 
At eleven, he explained the accounts of miracles as 
exaggerations of some real act of Jesus due to the 
repeating of it by one person to another. 

When about fifteen years old, he admitted that there 
must be some force or cause back of the physical 
world, but he maintained that we had no reason to say 
that this force was a perso?i, and that it was belittling 
to worship a tJiing\ therefore worship was senseless. 



RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT AND THEOLOGICAL IDEAS \yg 

In the case of children who receive the usual relig- 
ious training, there is an unquestioning acceptance of 
what is told them up to the seventh year. ^^.^^,^ ^^^. 
Between the seventh and the tenth year tude toward 
there are some questions, and after ten, [f^^fJ^JJ^^^ 
attempts to reason things out; this critical 
attitude increasing to the thirteenth or fourteenth 
year. The spirit of doubt first shows itself in attempts 
to place the responsibility for statements: as, "The 
Bible says,'' "My father believes," etc. Next come 
attempts to make the theological account square with 
actual life and with the child's own ideas of kindness 
and justice. The life of eternal song has not the 
attractions that life with a calliope or drum has. The 
injustice of sending the baby sister to hell-fires leads 
to rebellion against the entire system. Still, on the 
whole, there is little questioning from most children. 

Starbuck,* who, with Barnes, has made the widest 

observations on children's theological ideas. Prominent 

L u ' 1 J ' factors in 
finds the following factors in the child s religious 

religious life: ^^^li^s- 



Credulity and conformity 

Doubt 

Bargaining with God 

God as talisman 

God and heaven near 
Love and trust in God 

Awe and reverence 

Fears 

Dislike of religious observances 
Pleasure in religious observances 
Keen sense of right and wrong. . . 




*Starbuck's data include 330 children; Barnes's, 1,091, 



I go THE CHILD 

We notice here as usual the unquestioning accept- 
ance of statements made by parents, teachers, etc., 
noted also by Barnes. This Baldwin would doubtless 
refer to the child's feeling of dependence on parents. 
Again, the idea of barter, etc., and the feelings of love 
and reverence and fear amount only to 20 per cent and 
14 per cent respectively. This, Hall thinks, seems to 
point to parents teaching that God is a sort of servant 
for the child. Barnes's papers show essentially the 
same thing. God and heaven are most common in 
thought; hell and the devil less so. The spiritual 
world is in the main pleasant, but is peopled with 
strange forms, doing unreal things. 

Natural phenomena are hardly mentioned in rela- 
tion to God. He seems to the child's consciousness 
wholly distinct from the world. 

Children as a rule have very vague ideas about what 
God and Christ do, or what religious observance is 
for. One boy says God bosses the world, but usually 
they seem to think that the angels do^ the practical 
work. The relation of Christ to God is reversed in 
one fourth of the cases where He is mentioned, and in 
the majority of cases He is not even mentioned. The 
Trinity is spoken of by only two children out of one 
thousand and ninety-one. 

The virtues which are most commonly considered 

necessary in order to get to heaven are: Being very 

g-ood, keeping^ the commandments, believ- 
Religious "^ .' ^ ^ . . ' 

feeling and mg ^ God, lovmg God, praymg, etc.— all 

moral sense [^ the line of relip-ious observance, and not 
in the child. ,, ^ . , 

at all 01 practical moralitv. 

Children do not name teachers as the source of their 

ideas, but parents, church, pictures and the "hired girl." 



RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT AND THEOLOGICAL IDEAS igl 

If these reports are typical, it would seem that up 
to the age of twelve the child's religious consciousness 
consists, as a rule, simply of statements made by others 
and accepted without doubt; that the religious feeling 
is not yet separated from the feeling of dependence 
and mystery excited by parents and companions; and 
that the moral sense is only the sense of what custom 
demands. Shame is the shame of being found out, 
rather than of the doing of wrong, and the virtues pos- 
sessed by the child are the result of imitation rather 
than of moral conviction. 

Between the ages of twelve and sixteen, however, 
comes the great period of conversion, for this is the 
time when by far the majority of profes- 
sing Christians join the church. If this Conversion: 
does not occur before the age of twenty at average age. 
most, it is unlikely to take place later. 

Starbuck's records show that out of three hundred 
and thirty cases in all, the average age of conversion 
for girls was between twelve and thirteen and for 
boys between fifteen and sixteen. A second period 
occurs between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. 
These cases are explained by the fact that many of 
those converted then had been partially converted 
two years before, but for one cause or another had 
become indifferent. The first of these periods, you 
will notice, is at the age of puberty, and it seems prac- 
tically certain that the oncoming of maturity is closely 
connected with conversion. It is the time when the 
physical nature develops the necessity of another for 
its perfection, and this need would naturally be 
reflected in the mental and emotional life in every 
way. The vague mental longings and questionings 



jg2 '^^^ CHILD 

and unrests due to the rapid growth of association 
fibers in the nervous centers may be in large part 
satisfied by love of the ideal, and the hero-worship of 
which religion is one form. This close connection 
between mental and physical growth is shown also by 
the records of early conversion (71 per cent of women 
and 64 per cent of men). Such conversions are often 
due to overtraining or strong pressure (84 per cent and 
73 per cent) ; but otherwise they seern to accompany 
early physical development (43 and 36 per cent). 

Coming now to the meaning of the term, "conver- 
sion" properly covers all awakening to the demands 
of the higher life and determination to meet 

?l!,^^^f««^ them, whether the change be sudden or 
conversion. ' *^ 

slow. Most writers agree in the following: 

1. The sense of sin. This is found in 17 per cent of 
revival and 20 per cent of non-revival conversions, with 
or without religious training. If we include in this 
the fear of God as the Judge, with the resultant fears 
of death and hell, we must add 15 per cent and 16 per 
cent more to each of the above, making 32 per cent 
and 26 per cent respectively. When the early life has 
been bad, this sense is, of course, more prominent, but 
it appears even when the worst sins are little faults. 
Professor Leuba says that fear is often taken for the 
conviction of sin, and that many such cases are com- 
plicated with bodily disorders — hysteria, etc., which 
add to the feeling. This period will be referred to 
again later. 

2. Self-surrender — the yielding of self to the divine 
will. This appears in 10 per cent of the men and 12 
per cent of the women. It is usually preceded by 
much mental depression and meditation. Often there 



RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT AND THEOLOGICAL IDEAS 



S3 



is violent resistance, wrestling with God, argument 
and doubt. This is much more prominent in men 
than in women — doubt registering with them 36 per 
cent as against 6 per cent in women. In a few cases 
this is followed by a determination to live a better 
life, but as a rule the order after self-surrender is hope, 
trust, and love, culminating in 

3. Faith, in 16 per cent of men and 15 per cent of 
women. The nature of faith has been much discussed 
by theologians, and we can not expect to settle what it 
should be. In actual practice, it seems, more than any- 
thing else, to be the feeling of oneness with God and 
good, and the conviction that He is to be trusted. It 
is entirely apart from intellectual conviction, and is 
not, as a rule, belief in dogmas. It is not reasonable 
or reasoned faith, but, rather, an emotional state. It 
leads directly to 

4. Justification, and the sense of forgiveness, (22 per 
cent of men and 14 per cent of women), or the feeling 
of divine aid (10 and 6 per cent). Physiologically 
this is perhaps due to the inevitable reaction from the 
great nervous strain. We are speaking here of revival 
cases only. Any one who has seen a genuine old- 
fashioned revival can not doubt that mere physical 
fatigue has in some cases much to do with conversion. 
A woman, for example, worked up to the highest 
nervous pitch by her emotions, gives way, and an 
attack of weeping and laughing with consequent relief 
follows, which is interpreted by her as knowledge of 
God's forgiveness. 

5. As the natural result, there is a feeling of great 
joy. The world seems to be newly made. The whole 
nature rises to a higher level, and in many cases (14 



154 ^^^ CHILD 

and i8 per cent) public confession and testimony to 
the power of the divine spirit follow. 

6. The will is felt to be wholly powerless. The sub- 
ject is carried on by a power outside himself. "Saved 
by the grace of God" expresses his state of mind. It 
seems to be to a large extent a struggle between con- 
scious and unconscious factors, between habits which 
have passed below the level of attention and ideas which 
are as yet so vaguely felt as to be indescribable. It is 
again, perhaps, in large part the mental reflection of 
the bodily change— the opposition between the life 
of the individual and that of the race. 

Between the two sets of forces the child's conscious- 
ness stands dismayed. He feels himself as clay 
moulded by forces far more powerful than he, forces 
not only without him, but within him — how can he feel 
otherwise than helpless, and what hope is there for 
him if not in God? 

Let us now take up in more detail the studies of 
actual conversions. 

In the first place it seems to be true that the nature 
of the conversion, for most people, depends to a large 
Conversion ^^^^nt upon what is expected. Thus the 
and denominations like the Methodist, that 

uca ion. gj^piQy ^]^Q revival method and teach the 
necessity of a sudden and absolute turning from sin, 
can sho^ the most remarkable cases of reformation; 
while those like the Episcopalian, that look for a 
steady development of the religious life, are more 
likely to secure that. 

Teaching, imitation, and social pressure in other 
ways, influence 42 per cent of revival cases and 37 per 
cent of non-revival cases. We do not m-ean to say 



RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT AND THEOLOGICAL IDEAS 



1S5 



that they are the sole factors, but only that they are 
important ones. 

Allowing, however, for preconceived expectations, 
we find that many who look for sudden conversion, 
and perhaps even desire and strive for it, are conversion 
unable to attain it, while others get just andtem- 
what they expect. . perament. 

Professor Coe's cases are not as numerous as is desir- 
able, but he seems to have been very careful in collect- 
ing his material, so that it can be thoroughly relied on 
as far as it goes. He finds that out of sixteen subjects 
who expected conversion and were satisfied, twelve 
were in an emotional as opposed to an intellectual state 
of mind; eight of them had had hallucinations or 
motor automatisms of some kind, such as involuntary 
laughter or song, and many of them felt assured of 
special answer to prayer. 

In another group, on the other hand, out of twelve 
subjects, who expected conversion and were disap- 
pointed, nine were in an intellectual state, only one 
had either hallucinations or motor automatisms, and 
very few had direct answers to prayer. 

Under hypnotic influence, the first group are as a 
rule passively suggestible, while the second group, 
except in one or two cases, are suggestible, but are 
likely to add to or modify the suggestions in some way. 

Taking now those who are converted, Starbuck 
gives the following: 



Circumstances of Conversion 


Men 


Women 


Revival or camp meeting 


48% 

5 
32 

4 
II 


46% 
6 


At home after revival 


At home alone 


16 


Regular Church 


2=; 


Circumstances not given 


7 







86 



THE CHILD 



The motives of conversion have been touched upon 
slightly already, in giving social motives or objective 
forces, and the sense of sin. Other motives 
^nvlrsion. ^^^° ^"^^^ ^"- Egotistic motives, such as to 
gain heaven, form 21 per cent of both 
revival and non-revival cases. These motives average 
highest in the earlier years, diminishing up to the age 
of sixteen, then increasing up to eighteen, and thence 
declining. Love of God and Christ is mentioned as a 
motive in but 2 per cent of the cases, while love of a 
moral ideal is given in 15. The latter motive steadily 
increases in importance with the age of the conversion. 

These motives ought to determine the character of 
the new life, and yet the percentages do not seem to 
agree in all cases. 



Motive 


Men 


Women 


Desire to help others 

Love for others 


25% 

43 

36 

48 
5 


25% 
42 
32 
47 
6 


Nearness to Nature . 


Nearness to God 


Nearness to Christ 







If love of God enters so little into conversion, it 
seems strange that the feeling of nearness to Him 
should be so marked a feature of the new life, unless 
the desire for his approval is really more prominent 
before conversion than is indicated. Or, again, it may 
be that the mere feeling of relaxation, or release after 
the strain of expectation is given this meaning. 

Notice how small a part is assigned to Christ in 
these figures, obtained in nearly all cases, from ortho- 
dox church members; and yet Christ is the central fig- 
ure in the scheme of justification and redemption. 



RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT AND THEOLOGICAL IDEAS 



187 



Let us now consider briefly the religious life which 
is a gradual growth, without the storm and stress of con- 
version. Whether the de\^elopment shall be 
gradual or not is to a large extent a matter growth 

of temperament, but gradual growth is facil- 
itated by early religious surroundings and by freedom 
to raise doubts and wisdom in answering them. In 
such cases the belief in God, Christ, and immortality 
play a much more important part than in cases of sud- 
den conversion. The thought is not centered so 
entirely upon self. 

In cases where the religious feeling was not aroused 
at puberty, some other strong interest takes its place. 
Usually this is the moral interest in 33 per cent of 
women and 43 per cent of men, but it* may be intellec- 
tual (21 and 32 per cent), or esthetic (15 and 16 per cent). 

What now are the permanent results? In the cases 
of gradual growth, doubts are usually settled as they 
rise, hence the growth is as a rule a part of permanence 
character. ofconver- 

In cases of conversion, on the other hand, ^^®^^- 
there is frequently a period of reaction and reconstruc- 
tion of belief. The tables stand thus: 





Men 


Result of 
Conversion 


Revivals 


Age 


Non-Revi- 
vals 


Age 


Relapsed 


48% 
15 


13-7 
17 


24% 
35 


17.5 
18.7 


Permanent 




Women 


Result of 
Conversion 


Revivals 


Age 


Non-Revi- 
vals 


Age 


Relapsed ". . 


41% 
14 


12 
143 


14% 
17 


16 


Permanent 


15.3 



igg THE CHIL6 

This reconstruction may be, and often is, simply a 
new interpretation of religious beliefs, a more vital 
realization of the meaning of religion to the individual. 
It does not necessarily involve any break with the 
church, although the struggle is often a severe one. 
Or again, it may lead to rupture. This period usually 
covers the period from twenty to thirty, the time 
when James tells us that intellectual habits are being 
formed. 

What, in view of these facts, should be the religious 
training of the child? All agree that religion is not a 
thing forced upon man from the outside, 
frl^ininr ^^^ '^ rather the longing for unity with the 
ideal self. It is essentially social — the 
highest form of the longing for a friend who can per- 
fectly understand us 

' 'What I could never be, 
What men ignored in me, 
This was I worth to God. " 

It is fed and nourished by the same source that 
nourishes society. "If a man loves not his brother 
whom he has seen, how shall he love God, whom he 
has not seen?" How can one attain to the love of an 
ideal personality or to a belief in a Governor, a Judge, 
a Lawgiver, if he does not see the evidences of this 
love and law about him in nature and in man? 

We shall, therefore, agree emphatically with Dr. 
Hall, in his statements regarding the religious educa- 
tion of little children. It must begin in the cradle with 
the feelings of love and gratitude towards the mother, 
who stands then in the place of God. Reverence, 
obedience, and the whole list of Christian virtues are 



RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT AND THEOLOGICAL IDEAS i gg 

first exercised towards mother and father, and the less 
they are called out in the family life the less moral and 
religious capacity will the child have in 
later life. If the mother and the father make fh^^eUg^ous 
themselves slaves to the child's caprice, education of 
he will naturally look upon God as his *'*''^^"°' 
factotum. "As a father pitieth his children," so does 
God. How then if the father is unwise, unstable, gov- 
erned by moods? How shall he point the child to a 
God worthy of worship? Whatever our individual 
belief may be, we can not deny that men do and must 
think of God as having the attributes of men, after an 
anthropomorphic fashion, and as are the men whom 
men know, so is their image of God. Here, then, is 
one place where both teacher and parent can give 
religious instruction by quickening the child's love 
for others and for the ideal. 

Again, the child is constantly brought into contact 
with nature and with material things. If he is to con- 
trol them, he must know and follow their 
laws. Absolute truth is demanded of him Nature's 
in his dealings with them, and absolute 
obedience to their laws. One must be rather doubtful 
of the advantages of unquestioning obedience to 
persons, for even the best of persons is so liable to error 
that a child may easily feel that he is compelled by 
brute force to submit to caprice. But there can be no 
such possibility in following nature's laws. Obedience 
to principles can be inculcated there if the teacher will 
but grasp his opportunity; and from this it is a short 
step to obedience to the moral law and to God. 

Here we get the sense of God as the God of law, as 
a force infinitely more stable and valuable than the 



THE CHILD 



petty personality of the child. Awe and reverence 
enter fitly to deliver a child from himself, or rather 
from human nature as it is. Here also the question 
of the legitimacy of punishments finds a solution. If 
the father embodies or expresses to the child the law 
that he understands, the child never rebels against 
punishment. He knows that it is his due. Hence the 
value of Spencer's doctrine, that a punishment should 
be the natural result of the act, or as nearly so as pos- 
sible. 

In giving specific religious instruction, we can not, if 
we would, prevent a child from forming more or less 

definite pictures of God, Christ, heaven. 
Directing , , r ^u r ^ ,1 • 

the child's and so on, and so one ot the hrst thmgs is 

religious to emphasize only the qualities that are 
thought. ^ ^ , \, JL, 

permanent and worthy, ihere is no reason 

why a child should picture heaven with streets of gold, 
but he may picture it as filled with blessed and happy 
people. 

Then, when the child approaches the age of adoles- 
cence and conversion, the parents should take advan- 
tage of his new sensitiveness to religious and moral 
truths to impress upon him deeply his unity with God 
and all good. The details will necessarily vary with 
the convictions of the parents, but the important point 
is that this aspect of the child's nature shall be given 
its opportunity to flower, and yet not be forced into a 
premature bloom. The enthusiastic hero-worship of 
this age can hardly be more fitly directed than toward 
the great religious leaders, provided that the bondage 
of narrow dogmas be not at the same time imposed — 
a bondage that is soon thrown off, as the records of 
backslidings from orthodox conversion show. The 



RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT AND THEOLOGICAL IDEAS jqx 

churches, except the Roman Catholic, do not as yet 
appreciate their vast opportunity of making ardent 
converts among the youth from twelve to sixteen years 
of age, and the comparative difficulty of making con- 
verts afterwards. 

The religious sentiment is a feeiing of the unity 
with a higher good, toward which we striv^e and upon 

which we depend. It is universal, but its 

. , , . , Summary, 

expression in theological systems varies 

from century to century and from childhood to matu- 
rity. The little child accepts the faith of his parents 
without question, and modifies it so that he can under- 
stand it, thus often forming grotesque combinations. 
The older child begins to doubt and question. At 
adolescence there is an awakening to the importance 
of religion, followed by a sudden conversion or a 
gradual adoption of definite beliefs, according to the 
temperament and teaching of the person concerned. 
In many cases, there is a period of backsliding, 
followed by a second and permanent conversion in 
two or three years. If the conversion does not 
occur before the twentieth year, it is unlikely to occur 
at all. 

Religious instruction reflects the character of these 
periods. With the little child, who does not yet know 
the abstract world of principle, it takes the form of 
teaching habits of good living and loving; with the 
adolescent, the rousing of responsibility, and some 
specific form of belief, leading to church membership. 
In all cases, the teaching should be such that it seems 
reasonable to the child as he grows older and learns to 
think for himself. It must not violate his sense of 
justice or of love. 

13 



JQ2 THE CHILD 

REFERENCES 

Allen; J. G. Child Study and Religious Education. C. S. M., 

October, 1896, 289-293. (Plea for good S. S. teaching.) 
Baldwin, J. Mark. Mental Development, Social and Ethical 

hiterpi^etation, pp. 327-357. N. Y., Macmillan. $2.60. 
Barnes, Earl. Theological Life of a California Child. Ped. Sein., 

1892, 442-448. 
Punishment as Seen by Children. Ped. Sem., Vol. III., 234-45. 
Bergen, F. D. Theological Development of a Child. Arena, 

1898, Vol. XIX., 254-266. 
Butler, N. M. Religious Instruction in Education. Ed. Rev., 

Dec, 1899, Vol. XVIII., 425-436. (Advocates longer S. S. 

sessions and paid teachers.) 
Calkins, M. W. Religious Consciousness of Children. New 

World, 1896, 705-718. 
Chrisman, O. Religious Periods of Child Growth. Educ. Rev.. 

1898, Vol. XVI., 40-48. 
Religious Ideas of a Child. C. S. M., March, 1898, 516-52S. 
Coe, G. A. Morbid Conscience of Adolescents. Rept. of III. 

Soc.for C. S., October, 1898, 97-108. 
Dynamics of Personal Religion, Psy.Rev., 1899, 484-505. 
Studies in Religioti. N. Y., Methodist Book Concern, i^i.oo. 
Daniels, A. H. The New Life. Am. Jour. Psy., Oct., 1893, Vol. 

VI., 61-106. (Significance of puberty with primitive 

peoples. Connection between adolescence and conversion.) 
Gould, H. M. Child Fetiches. Ped. Sem., 1898, 421-425. 
Hugh, D. D. Animism of Children. N. IV. Mo., June and 

October, 1899, 450-453. 71-74- 
Leuba, J. H. Psychology of Religious Phenomena. Am. Jour. 

of Psy., Vol. VII , 309-385. 
McMurry, Lida B. Children's Moral and Religious Conceptions. 

Rept. III. Socfor C. S., Vol. II., 23, 24. 
Marshall, H. R. Religious Instinct. Alind, N. S., 1897, 40-58. 
Montgomery, C. Religious Element in Formation of Character, 

Proc. N. E. A., 1899, 121-127. 
Richter, Jean Paul. Levafta. See Index. (Religious educa- 
tion, commands, punishments, moral education of boys.) 
Starbucl?, E. D, Study of Conversion, Am. Jour. Psy., Vol. 

VIII., 268-308. 
Psychology of Religion. N. Y. , Scribner. -Si. 50. 



CHAPTER X 

Conception of Good and Evil 

1. Tell the story of Jennie, and the box of paints 
(see section on Remedial Agencies in this chapter), 
and find what punishment the children observa- 
would give. tions. 

2. Ask the children whether it is "fair" for a teacher 
to punish the entire class for something that was done 
by a member of the class, but by which one she does 
not know. 

3. To test the sense of property rights, ask the chil- 
dren: "If you found a sum of money on the school 
doorstep, what would you do with it?" The amount 
found should be varied in the different grades. It 
should not be too large for the child to understand 
what he can buy with it, or so small that he does not 
think it necessary to seek its owner. The place where 
it is found — the school doorstep — shows that probably 
the owner can easily be found. A different set of 
answers would be obtained if it were found in the 
street. 

"Are there good and bad children?" asks Beremini, 
and his answer is: "No. There are individual san- 
guine, choleric, mild, active, quiet, etc., 
temperaments. The leadership of moral edge^atfi^rst 
conviction, however, is lacking, for it is 
the evidence of a gradually developing factor not 
yet attained in social life. To the child, then, all 

193 



194 



THE CHILD 



things are possible, good and bad, and the thousand 
and one intervening stages; only dispositions and ten- 
dencies are present and the results are whatever comes 
of the environment." The more actual children are 
studied, the more evident does it become that the 
child's first acts are guided by certain instinctive ten- 
dencies and their pleasing or painful results, without 
any sense of right or wrong. A little baby is neither 
good nor bad, neither selfish nor unselfish. He cries 
and draws away from pain; he laughs and le-aches out 
toward pleasure, with no thought of how others are 
affected by his acts, or of any further consequence to 
himself. Only through the long training of childhood, 
culminating at adolescence in a fuller ripening of the 
social sense, does he come to acquire true morality. 

Society — a divine or a human companion and judge — 
is essential for the growth of the moral sense. In the 
Society a actions and reactions between himself and 
force in the others, a child learns both his limitations 
development ^^^^^^^ <<^u u i^. ^ " j 

of the moral ^^^ his possibilities, thou shalt not, and 

sense. "thou shalt." 

The morality of a child accordingly reflects, mirror- 
like, the society into which he grows, as modified by 
his own instincts. The Chinese boy adopts his 
national morality as the American boy does his. If 
the two were interchanged in the cradle, their moral 
standards would also, in large measure, be inter- 
changed, and the American child might so outrage his 
nationality as to worship his ancestors! 

A child's attitude toward social institutions at the 
start, then, is one of total ignorance, which soo'n 
changes to puzzled ignorance when he is checked in 
doing what he wants; this confusion is followed by a 



CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL 



195 



vague understanding of a superior force of some sort, 
with rebellion or obedience, according to his disposi- 
tion, and his belief in the beneficence of this force. 
To trace the growth of this understanding in certain 
respects is the object of this chapter. 

There is an English proverb that "possession is nine 
points of the law," and another that "finders are keep- 
ers." Little children tend instinctively Attitude 
to act upon these proverbs. The one who toward 
first gets a thing has the right to it against Possession. 
all others; and, with the youngest children, this feeling 
of ownership sets aside any previous ownership. The 
little child does not make the distinction of thine and 
mine. "Mine" is whatever he wants, and when he 
does not want it, he may or may not feel a sense of 
ownership. With kindergarten children the plea that 
they "had it first" seems to override the argument "It's 
my turn," especially if the turn is something left over 
from the day before. There is a tendency to start 
each day with a new account of rights. 

The right given by possession is illustrated very well 

by the boys on the McDonough Farm, near Baltimore. 

This p-roup of boys is to a large extent self- 

• -ru c ^ u -J A Ownership 

governmg. The first boys considered on the 

themselves all equally legatees of Mr. McDonough 
T»/r-r^ , iiri- 1 Boys' Farm. 

McDonough, and therefore havmg equal 

rights. Gradually a system of ownership grew up, own- 
ership of squirrels' and birds' nests, and of land which 
rabbits and musk-rats frequented, etc. Ownership was 
conferred by the discovery of a squirrel's nest, and 
the tacking of the discoverer's name on the tree. It 
lasted for the season. No other boy had a right 
thereafter to touch that nest, and was punished if 



196 



THE CHILD 



found doing so. In the case of rabbit and musk-rat 
land, the ownership was acquired by setting a trap. 
The land for a certain distance about the trap then 
belonged to the owner for the season. But a bright 
boy realized that if he left his trap in the same place 
through the year, he would be the first at the opening 
of the new season, and hence ownership of rabbit and 
musk-rat land became practically permanent. On leav- 
ing the school a boy could will or sell his trap to 
another boy, and thus inheritance came in— but all 
based primarily on the first possession. We find just 
the same condition in opening new lands — forcible 
possession gives ownership, and only too often gives 
it even where there is a native race already in posses- 
sion. The baby in clamoring to hold what he has by any 
means grasped, is only repeating the history of the race. 
When a right is in dispute, or a disagreeable role is 
to be taken by some child, the decision may be 

^^^.^ , thrown back upon some reason or custom, 

Attitude ^ 

toward or if there is no such precedent, upon some 

chance. form of chance. The most common illus- 

tration of the last is in the counting-out rhymes. The 
origin of these survivals of magical incantations 
which were designed to bring to light a guilty person 
shows even now, in that the person who is "It" usually 
has the least desirable part in the game. 

In the chapter on Imagination we have already 
shown how a child may invent a lie in order to escape 
Atft d from an unpleasant situation, just as he 

toward invents means of obtaining bread and jam. 

thetrutn. There is in this at first no perception of the 
moral wrong, but only the instinctive shrinking from 
pain. To cure the child, therefore, we must bring 



CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL 



197 



about two things: (i) Make him brave enough to take 
the consequences of any act of his; and (2) make him 
realize the self-contradiction and doubleness involved 
in a lie. Sometimes it is said that a child should never 
be punished when he confesses any wrongdoing. 
Such a course must breed in a child a belief that there 
is no natural penalty for wrong, and must end in more 
or less contempt of the law that can constantly be over- 
ridden if only the transgression is admitted. Rather, 
so high a fearlessness and honor should be cultivated 
that a child who has done wrong shall present himself 
for punishment. 

Plato says somewhere that if man did but know his 
highest good, he who had broken the law would hasten 
to the judge for condemnation and punishment as a 
sick man does to his physician tor medicine. So in 
all our dealings with a child, even if pain is needful, 
every act and word should declare to him that our 
only purpose is to heal his moral sickness, and to 
increase his moral health. We all know that children 
can be very brave under the physical pain inflicted by 
a physician if they understand the necessity for it. 
Surely they will be no less brave under the pain result- 
ing from their wrongdoing, if there also they see the 
need of it. Lies offer little temptation to a child who 
holds this attitude toward pain. But most of us are 
too cowardly ourselves to inculcate true courage into 
our children. We ourselves prevaricate and falsify 
under slight temptation, and we can expect .nothing 
else from our children. 

In all probability there is at first no intention of 
inflicting pain in bullying and fighting. Burk believes 
that they are survivals of acts useful to an earlier 



198 



THE CHILD 



civilization. That is, they are instinctiv^e, and have no 
consciously defined purpose back of them. Probably 
Teasin curiosity to see how the victim will act also 

bullying. enters in, as it does in the case of many 
cruelty, apparently cruel acts. In such cases there 

is a double remedy. First, the child's sympathy should 
be aroused for the victim by leading him to imagine 
himself in the other's place, or, if he can not imagine 
it, by actually putting him there. A little bullying and 
teasing of the bully, accompanied by remarks to show 
that the pain he suffers now is only the pain he himself 
has inflicted on others, will often cure him. In the sec- 
ond place, replace the bullying, teasing and cruelty by 
other acts, if possible by kind acts, toward the victim; 
but if that is not possible, by constant occupation in 
work and games where there is no opportunity to 
indulge this propensity. As to fighting, it is doubtful 
whether a fair fight leaves any bad moral effects, and 
does not rather square up grievances in the most satis- 
factory way to the persons concerned. There are, of 
course, boys who will brood over a defeat in a fight and 
will be induced by it to use underhand means the next 
time, but such a disposition is sure to come out in other 
directions also, and must be combated all along the line. 
The only way of knowing whether a boy has been bene- 
fited by a fight is to see how he feels toward his oppo- 
nent. The parent's action can be safely guided by that. 
The moral ideas of children are concerned chiefly 
with concrete acts. A good girl or boy is usually one 

who minds the mother. At a great dis- 
andthebad ^ance after obedience comes truthfulness, 

29 per cent as against 54 per cent. Is it 
not a sad commentary upon us, that we should impress 



CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL j qq 

obedience upon children so much more diligently than 
truthfulness? 

In naming moral qualities that they would prefer in 
a chum, however, the order stands thus: kindness and 
good nature, justice, truthfulness, constancy, unsel- 
fishness, affection, modesty, obedience, courage. 

We shall discuss th£ subject of custom at greater 
length under Imitation. Here we wish only to point 
out that to the very little child the right ^^^.^ 

thing is the customary thing. He knows toward 

nothing of zvliy he should or should not do custom. 

this; he simply accepts the fact that others do it, and 
so he does it. The earliest moral education thus con- 
sists in forming good habits through imitation. Such 
training is of course incomplete unless it finally 
reenforces the habits or custom by reason, guided by 
a high moral ideal. 

With little children law is a personal thing — the 
command of the parent or teacher; but as they grow 
older they become conscious that the par- 
ents also obey, not the judge or the police- ^"**^f® 

^ 1 toward law. 

man, but somethmg back of him, some- 
thing that is called the law. So a child develops the 
idea of an impersonal principle that applies to all 
men, and gives obedience to it the more readily as 
his own life is regulated by reasonable customs. 

The development of this sense of law is shown in 
the penalties children of different ages would attach 
to a wrong act. At seven, 89 per cent of the children 
punish regardless of the legal penalties; at twelve 
29 per cent give the legal penalty, and at sixteen 74 per 
cent. The great change occurring at adolescence marks 
once more the child's mental and moral awakening. 



200 THE CHILD 

In taking up the discussion of how to cure children's 
faults and failings, we enter upon the most vexed sub- 
Remedial ject in education. All sorts of opinions are 
agencies; ^ife, from the theory that all children are 
punishment, , i ^ i.u lu i. • • i • 

child's always good, to the one that origmal sm 

attitude. makes almost the sum total of a child. To 

preserve sanity, and to discuss neither the angels nor 
the imps, but the children whom we play with every 
day,. is the only object here. 

It may throw some light upon the subject if we first 
see what punishment children would themselves inflict 
and consider just. 

Miss Schallenberger told two thousand children from 
six to sixteen years old this story: "One afternoon, 
six-year-old Jennie's mother went out to call, leaving 
Jennie playing with her box of paints. After a while 
Jennie went into the parlor, and saw there some nice new 
chairs. She exclaimed, *Oh, I will paint all these chairs, 
and mamma will be so pleased !" When her mamma came 
home she found her chairs all spoiled. If you had been 
her mamma, what would you have done to Jennie?" 

The punishments assigned fell into three classes. 

I. The principle of reprisal. Jennie gave her mother 
pain, and so she must suffer pain. The little children 
advocated this far more than the older ones, for they 
thought only of the act, not of the motive. At six 
only 23 children speak of Jennie's ignorance; at 
twelve, 322, and at sixteen, 654. So also, none of the 
six-year-olds would tell Jennie why she was wrong; at 
twelve, 181 do, and at sixteen, 751. The specific pun- 
ishment assigned is usually a whipping, but this les- 
sens from 1, 102 out of 2,000 at six, to 763 at eleven, and 
185 at sixteen. 



CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL 20I 

2. Prevention by fear or terror. None of the six- 
year-olds would threaten; 39 at twelve and 85 at fifteen 
would. None of the six-year-olds would make her 
promise not to do it again; 15 at twelve and 35 at fif- 
teen would. Notice how very small this class is both 
as to threats and promises; and yet there are no more 
common methods than these two in dealing with chil- 
dren. 

3. Reform. As we have already said, explanation 
of why Jennie's act was wrong increases steadily up to 
the age of sixteen. The idea of reform becomes more 
prominent, but even at sixteen it is not as prominent 
as the idea of revenge is at six. The older children 
are more merciful than the younger. 

Now consider in connection with tnis the remi- 
niscences by young people between seventeen and 
twenty-one years old, given by Street, of punishments 
that did good or harm 

Under punishments that did good we find the follow- 
ing list: Sixteen wer^e helped by whippings, of which 
they speak with gratitude; eleven by with- just or 
drawal of some privilege; six by talks; five unjust pun- 
by being left alone a time; four by scolding, is iJieii s. 

Harm was done to eight by whippings; to eight by 
undeserved punishments; to four by sarcasm; to four 
by talks; to three by forced apologies; to two by pub- 
lic punishments. 

These numbers are small, and must be supplemented 
by Barnes, who collected 2,000 papers describing just 
and unjust punishments, from children between seven 
and sixteen years old. Two and a half per cent of these 
2,000 children can not recall any just punishment that 
they have received, but we are left ignorant of their 



202 THE CHILD 

character and surroundings; 25 per cent can not recall 
an unjust punishment; 42 per cent of those who think 
punishment just, can give no reason, and 12 per cent 
think that it does them good, although they do not 
see how. In such cases, there seems to be an unques- 
tioning acceptance of custom. Where reasons are 
given, the most common idea is that of atonement, the 
expiation of an offense by pain. 

Of those who felt some one punishment unjust, 41 
per cent gave as a reason that they were innocent of 
the offense; 27 per cent that they could not help it, 
forgot, did not know better, did not intend to, etc.; 
19 per cent admitted the offense, but thought the pun- 
ishment too severe, due to prejudice, etc. Eleven per 
cent maintained that the act for which they were pun- 
ished was right, and 79 per cent threw all responsi- 
bility on the one who punished them. Injustice is, on 
the whole, charged about equally against parents and 
teachers, but as children grow older, they talk less 
about home matters. 

The ideas of what punishments are just and what 
are unjust, are very vague, even among the older chil- 
dren. The forms about which opinions commonly 
differ are: scolding, confinement, and whipping. Six 
hundred and eighty-one whippings are called just, as 
against 493 unjust. 

Finally, the results of investigations to determine 
whether children admit the justice of making the 
innocent suffer with and for the guilty are rather sur- 
prising. This case was presented to nearly 2,000 chil- 
dren from seven to sixteen years old: "Some children 
in a class were bad, but the teacher could not find out 
who they were, and so she kept the whole class after 



CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL 203 

school. Was she just?" Out of these 1914 children, 
82 per cent considered her justified, and the percentage 
was nearly the same for all ages. 

The reasons given for this decision were various. 
Forty-nine per cent claimed that it was just because 
the class would not tell on the guilty ones, evidently 
believing that the class as a whole is at least partly 
responsible for the good behavior of each member. 
Sixteen per cent said that the class was bad; 10 
per cent, that the teacher did not know the guilty 
ones and must punish some one; 5 per cent, that it 
was a sure way of punishing the offenders, and 4 per 
cent that it would prevent a repetition of the offense. 
The feeling that the class should cooperate with the 
teacher in keeping order increases to over 50 per cent 
after the age of ten. 

How then, do children feel towards punishments? 

1. Little children are much more prone than older 
ones to consider only the act, and not the 

motive; to punish for reprisal; to inflict Summary. 
physical pain; to give no reasons. 

2. At no age do children consider threats and prom- 
ises of much importance. 

3. Practically all children accept most punishments 
as just; but many consider some one or a few unjust. 

4. What is just, is very vague and is probably almost 
the same as what is customary, especially with the 
younger children. Under unjust punishments, for 
instance, violation of custom, either by punishing the 
innocent or helpless child, or by exacting an unusually 
severe penalty, covers nearly all the cases. 

5. The most common punishment is whipping or 
spanking. Among children of all ages, 681 whippings 



204 



THE CHILD 



were considered just, as against 493 unjust. As far 
as these records go, children do not seem to feel that 
there is any greater indignity in a whipping than in 
any other form of punishment. 

6. Most children admit the justice, though on 
various grounds, of punishing a class for the misbe- 
havior of some unknown member. 

What conclusions may fairly be drawn, as to the best 
forms of punishment? This raises the whole question 
of what agencies should and what should 
^aininff ^^^ ^^ employed to secure right feeling and 

action, assuming that a child does act and 
feel wrongly. Such agencies may be divided into 
three classes: (i) the natural results of the child's act; 
(2) moral suasion; (3) punishment or fear in some 
form. 

I. Punishment as a Logical Result. Spencer formu- 
lated the doctrine that the reasonable punishment of a 
wrong act is its own logical result, and that the pun- 
ishment given by parents or teachers shouldsimulate 
this natural one as far as possible. The theory is 
excellent as far as it goes, but there are many wrong 
acts in which the consequences are so far removed that 
the child can not of himself see the connection; and 
there are others where the effect for the time being 
is slight, and not painful; and there are still others in 
which deformity or death would result. As an exam- 
ple of the first we may take the habit of lunching three 
or four times between meals; of the third, careless 
playing with a sharp knife. We can not, in any such 
cases, leave the child to learn by the results, and so we 
supplement Nature by the second method — moral 
suasion. 



CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL 



205 



2. Moral Snasiov. Under this head falls all discus- 
sion of moral questions, whether it is the talking over of 
some past offense or the warning against some danger. 

Here also there is much difference of opinion as to 
the value of discussing moral questions. More than a 
few high-school teachers assert that talking does only 
harm, because it hardens children and makes them 
hypocrites. On the other hand, we have some direct 
testimony from boys showing that they were greatly 
helped at a critical time by a friendly talk. 

It is possible here, as in everything else, to approach 
a child in such a way that a discussion will only 
harden him, but surely we can not assert that a kindly, 
fair, and reasonable presentation of a moral question, 
with opportunity on the child's part for reasonable 
objections, will either harden him or make him hypo- 
critical. He must have had sad experiences with 
other adults if this is the effect upon him. 

The writer believes, on the other hand, that there is 
serious danger in leaving a child to form his own opin- 
ions of right and wrong. He has not the ability to 
generalize with certainty, or the experience upon 
which to base a correct judgment, and it is our duty to 
supplement his defects without forcing our opinions 
down his throat. This teaching is not best done by 
formal instruction, but in the evening or Sunday talks 
that every wise mother has with her children. At such 
a time, specific examples — this time when John got 
angry, and that one when Mary told the fib— will 
come up of themselves, and can be seen in their true 
light by the children. Such talks show the children 
where they must learn self-control and make them fee! 
that all the family are helping them. 



2o6 '^^^ CHILD 

But the Importance of kindness and gentleness In 
doing this, and of not forcing discussion must be 
insisted upon. To force children to talk over their 
sins, or to listen to moral platitudes, does have the bad 
effect which some teachers dread. 

3. Pimishment or Fear. When, however, the natural 
punishment is no deterrent, and when discussion and 
argument have been exhausted, is any resource left to 
the instructor or parent but an appeal to fear in some 
form? Let it be assumed that the action is evidently 
a wrong one, like telling a lie, and that the lies are not 
told from fear, but to get some supposed advantage. 
The child is a persistent liar, let us say. We will admit 
at once either that the child is abnormal, or that his 
previous training has been seriously wrong; but still, 
here he is, a persistent liar, on whom all our reasons 
have been employed without effect. Some hopeful 
enthusiasts maintain that there are no such children, 
but they do not count for much in dealing with prac- 
tical questions. What are we to do with this child, 
if we do not punish him, and inspire him with a fear of 
lying by making him realize vividly Its bad results? 

Punishment should be the /^^/ resort, but if all other 
measures fail, then it may justly be employed. It is, 
as Hyde says, a moral vaccination in such cases, a 
slight sickness, to ward off a far more dangerous one. 
What the punishment shall be. In cases where there is 
no natural penalty, must depend very much upon the 
nature of the child, and upon the punishment inflicted 
upon his playmates. An unusual punishment Is far 
more dreadful than a customary one, even If It be in 
Itself lighter. The evidence obtained from children 
themselves seems to show that they do not, as a rule, 



CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL 



207 



look upon corporal punishment with the same horror 
that their elders do. This is doubtless due in part to 
its being customary, and in part to their feeling of 
personal dignity not being so highly developed. Con- 
finement may inflict more pain than a whipping, or the 
reverse may be the case. 

The point is always, that a parent or teacher should 
know what form of punishment may best reach the 
child; that he should not inflict too severe a penalty, 
or, on the other hand, too light a one; and that he 
should impose the penalty, not in anger, but in all 
fairness of mind. 

If a child does not yield to mild punishment, he lays 
himself open to more severity, and if he continues 
may be classed finally as a subject for a reformatory. 

The discussion, so far, seems to have been based on 
the assumption that children are naturally bad, and 
that punishment is an essential part of edu- 
cation. We can not, indeed, deny that there ?!?7®^Ji^® 
' ' -^ _ measures. 

are some unfortunates in whom the heredi- 
tary tendencies to crime need slight encouragement to 
come to a head. But such cases are few as compared 
with the great number of children whose slight devia- 
tions from right can be easily turned back. The pre- 
vention of wrong action is a far more important branch 
of practical morality than its correction. 

Henry Ward Beecher once said, wittily and wisely, 
that if he could but be born right the first time he 
would be willing to take his chances on 
the Second Birth. Modern Christianity eonditTons. 
marks its sense of the relation between 
the physical and moral, by sending medical mission- 
aries to the heathen and visiting nurses to the poor of 

14 



2o8 THE CHILD 

the slums. It has been abundantly proved that 
the moral tone is somewhat lowered by fatigue and 
that the habitual criminal usually has some bodily 
defects. The first thing necessary, therefore, for a 
healthy moral nature is a healthy body. The moral 
education of a child begins even before the marriage 
of his parents, in their cultivation of right habits of 
living. 

Everything that contributes toward making the child 
well-born, physically, and toward keeping him so, is 
a factor in his moral education. Here, and here alone, 
is the justification for the expenditure of the best 
thought and energy upon the science of hygiene, 
including cooking. Such matters as the healthiest 
food for a meal and the healthiest way of cooking it, 
the clothing, and the ventilation of the house, assume 
from this standpoint the aspect of important moral 
duties. The child who is born healthy and kept 
healthy by good food, good air, and good clothing has 
the basis of a sound morality. 

The struggle between right and wrong occurs in most 

of us because our feelings are opposed to our duty or 

our reason, and it could be in large part 

breeding transferred to a wider sphere, if we had 

been properly trained in small matters. 

It is pitiable to find a child of ten or eleven years 
constantly disciplined for slight discourtesies, for 
indiscriminate eating at meals and between meals, 
and for cruelty to weak things. His moral struggles 
at this age should come in the resistance of temptation 
to active wrongdoing. Such a condition is usually 
the fault of the parent, who neglected these matters 
when the child was little. From the very beginning 



CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL 



209 



of life, only courteous tones, gestures, and acts should 
surround the child, and be expected of him, as a 
matter of course. Good breeding, which includes all 
the lesser moralities, should be so habitual as to be 
unconscious. Then a child can turn his attention 
entirely to the more serious moral questions that each 
of us must some time decide. 

In the decision of these questions, a child's greatest 
safeguard, especially between ten and eighteen years 
o{ age, lies in a close friendship with some 
older person, parent, teacher or friend, friendship. 
Such a friendship brings about naturally the free dis- 
cussion of serious moral problems and allows a child to 
receive with an open mind the opinions of his elders. 
Both for the prevention and the correction of evil tend- 
encies such a relation is of the greatest value. Parents 
should, therefore, make every effort to retain the con- 
fidence of their children, and teachers should consider 
the securing of that confidence as important as their 
class teachings. 

The influence of good books, music, and pictures 
must not be omitted, although probably they have not 
as much influence upon most of us as our friendships. 
All these means, it must be understood, are but sub- 
sidiary to the great end of developing high ideals and 
noble ambitions in the child by precept and example. 
A morality that is merely habitual is better than none, 
but is only the basis of a morality that is shaped and 
modeled by the power of a living, glorious devotion 
to the highest aims. The parent or the teacher who can 
by any means inspire a child with a love of the good, 
the beautiful, and the true, with the ability to see 
them in the lives about him, and with a willingness to 



2IO 



THE CHILD 



sacrifice himself for their attainment in however 
humble a form, has done the utmost that one human 
being can do for another. 

REFERENCES 

Adler, Felix. Moral histriiction of Children. N. Y. , Appleton. 

$1.50. 
Barnes, Earl. Shidies in Education, 26. 71, no, 149, 190, 270, 

299. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. (Tells how 

to collect and use material.) 
Brown, E. E. Naughty Children. Proc. N. E.A., 1899, 564-570. 
Bryant, Sophie. Teachings of Morality in Family and School. 

N. Y. Macmillan. §1.25. 
Studies i7i Character. N. Y., Macmillan. |i. 50. 
Bulkley, J. E. Social Ethics in the Schools. Forum, Jan., 

1899. Vol. XXVI., 615-620. 
Burk. F. L. Teasing and Bullying. Fed. Sem., 1897, Vol. IV. 
Carus, Paul. Moral Character of Children. Opefi Court, 1899, 

176-184. 
Darrah, Estelle M. Children's Attitude towards Law. Barnes's 

Studies in Ed., 213-216, 254-258. 
Dewey, J. Chaos in Moral Training. Pop. Sc. Mo. Vol. XLV., 

433-443- 
Ethelmer, E. Fear as an Ethic Force. West. Rev., 1899, 

300-309. 
Frear, Caroline. Class Punishment. Barnes's Studies in Ed., 

332-337. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. 
Gr 00s, Karl. The Play of Man. N. Y., Appleton. $1.50. 
Hall, G. S. Children's Lies. Fed. Sem., 1891, 211-218. 

Moral and Religious Training of Children. Fed. Sem., 1891. 
Harrison, Elizabeth, Child Nature, Chapter VI. Chicago, 

Kgu. Pub. Co. iS5i.oo. 
Hyde, Wm. DeWitt. Our Ethical Resources. Afidover Rev., 

Vol. XVII., 124-133. 
Jordan, D. S. Nature Study and Moral Culture. Science, N. S.. 

1896, Vol. IV., 149-156 
Luckey, G. W. A. Development of Moral Character. Proc. N. 

E, A.y 1899, 126-136. 



CONCEPTION OF GOOD AND EVIL 211 

Morro, A. Moral Influence of Puberal Development. Am. Jour. 

Sociology, September, iSgg. 
Mangasarian, M. M. Punishment of Children. Int. Jour. 

Ethics, Vol. IV., 493-498. 
Oppenheim, N. Why Children Lie. Pop. Sc. Mo., Vol. XLVII., 

1895, 372-387- 
Osborn, F. W. Ethical Contents of Children's Minds. Educ. 

Rev., Vol. VIII., 143-146. 
Palmer, G. H. Can Moral Conduct be Taught in Schools? 

Forum, Vol. XIV., 673-6S5. 
Patterson, Alma. Children's Motives. Barnes's Studies in Ed. , 

352-355. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. 
Perez, B. First Three Years oj Childhood. Moral Sense, 285- 

292. Syracuse, Bardeen. §1.56. 
Rashdall, Hastings. Theory of Punishment, hit. Jour. oJ 

Ethics, Vol. XI,, 20-31. 
Rovve, S. H. Fear in the Discipline of the Child. Outlook, Sept. 

24, 1898, 234-235. 
Savage, M. J. Rights of Children. Arena, Vol. VI'., 8-16. 
Schallenberger, M. Children's Rights as Seen by Themselves. 

Fed. Sein., 1894-6, Vol. III., 87-96. 
Sears, C. H. Home and School Punishments. Fed. Sem., 1899. 

159-187. 
Sharp, F. C. Aims of Moral Education. Int. Jour. Ethics, 

1899, Vol. IX., 214-228. 
Sisson, Genevra. Who Has the Best Right? Barnes' s Studies 

in Ed., 259-263. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. 
Spencer, Anna G. Record of Virtue. Century Mag., Vol. 

XIX., 238-245. 
Street, I. R. Study in Moral Education. Fed. Sem., Vol. IV., 

5-40. 
Van Liew, C. C. Mental and Moral Development of the Kinder- 
garten Child. Froc. N. E. A., 1899, 551-559- 
Wall, W. A. Deterrent Punishment. hit. Jour. Ethics, Vol. 

VIII., 157-158. 
Wiggin, Kate D. Rights of Children. Scribner' s Mag., Vol. 

XII., 242. Also in book form as Children' s Rights. Bos- 
ton, Houghton, Mifflin. $1.00. 
Winterburn, Florence Hall. Nursery Ethics. N. Y., Baker. 

$1.00. 



CHAPTER XI 

Feelings and Emotions 

1. Trace in some one child the growth of fear, anger, 
and love. Note what called out the first expression in 
Observa- each case, and how the range of objects 
tions. widens. Did the child express affection 
before he was taught the kiss or the loving pat? Was 
he imitating? 

2. Ask children of what they are most afraid, and 
why? 

3. Obtain from adults reminiscences of the persons 
whom, as children, they loved best. 

(i) At what age did the love exist? 

(2) What relation did the person hold to you? How 

well did you know the person? Did you see 
the person daily or hourly? Was mystery an 
element in the love? 

(3) Why did you love the person? On account of 

substantial services, like feeding and clothing 
you? Or for some personal quality? Or 
because of kisses and caresses for you? Or for 
gifts — candy, picture-books, etc.? (It would 
hardly be possible to question children them- 
selves, as the knowledge that their papers were 
to be read by the teacher would prevent a free 
expression of feeling.) 

There is probably no one subject in psychology that 
has caused as much discussion as that of feeling and 

2X2 



FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 



213 



emotion. How pleasure and pain ha\e originated and 
what is their value, what emotion is and into what 
classes it is to be divided, are matters on introduc- 
which there are nearly as many opinions as ^^o^- 
there are writers. We shall not, however, enter into 
the discussion of these much disputed points except in 
the most incidental way, but rather limit ourselves to 
the description of certain definite emotions, as they 
appear in children, and thus gain some idea of the 
emotional nature as it actually manifests itself. This 
will show, at least in a general way, what the most 
powerful springs of action are, and will lead on to the 
subject of interest, and of tendencies to action. 

Interest, indeed, can not be eliminated entirely from 
this discussion, for interest is feeling directed towards 
a definite object, and it is impossible to 
consider feeling without taking into account I'eeiingand 

, lIlu6r6SL. 

its objects, more or less. Whatever division 
we make must be more or less artificial. We shall, 
however, take up here those feelings in which the 
pleasure or pain aspect is the most marked feature to 
the person himself. In interest the attention is con- 
cerned more with the object and less with the feel- 
ing, but, as we shall notice, either may pass into the 
other in any specific case. 

Even before birth it is probable that a child feels 
pains and pleasures of touch, from pressures and jars, 

but these are necessarily vague. After ^. ^ 

^ & First pains 

birth, for a long time, the most vivid feel- and 
ings are those connected with hunger and Pleasures, 
its satisfaction, with warmth and cold, and with touch. 
Under this last head come the baby's delight in 
being relieved from the confinement of clothing, the 



214 



THE CHILD 



comfortable feeling of water in the bath, and the 
pleasure of being rubbed dry and warm. Preyer and 
Compayre agree that in the first months of life the 
greatest pleasure is the negative one of getting rid of 
pain. In the course of a month, moderately bright 
lights and slowly moving objects cause pleasure, and 
by the second month bright colors and sweet sounds 
are sources of delight. Between the fourth and sixth 
months, the pleasure of grasping things and the delight 
X)f being able to do things, such as tearing or crumpling 
paper, ringing the bell, and so on, come into promi- 
nence. 

The appearance of the first smile that indicates 
pleasure is the occasion of much rejoicing. Of course 
a baby may make grimaces that look like smiles very 
early, either accidentally or as the reflex of some one 
else's expression, but the first smile of delight Dar- 
win says did not appear in his son until the forty-fifth 
day. The smile is usually accompanied, especially as 
the child gets a little older, by crowing and kicking, 
and movements of the arms. Perez says that the little 
baby is easily fatigued by any unusual experience, 
whether pleasurable or painful, and should not be con- 
stantly amused by over-fond mothers. 

If he is well, the baby is usually content to lie in 
his cradle and take in from it the sights and sounds 
about him, dropping off to sleep at intervals to recover 
from the pressure of the novel world. He gets all the 
amusement that his nervous system can stand in this 
way. 

Prominent among the pleasures that seem to have 
no object, is the child's delight in being tickled. A 
summary of Dr. G. Stanley Hall's investigation of this 



t'feELINGS AND EMOTIONS 



215 



subject follows. Most children and even adults have a 
tendency to fuss with the skin, to rub it or scratch it, 
especially if it has any slight bruise, rough- 
ness or eruption that causes a feeling of Tickling a^nd 
uneasiness. There seems to be a demand 
on the part of the skirl, as of the othef sense-organs, 
to be stimulated. This need is satisfied by rubbings 
and also especially, by tickling. The sensitiveness 
of the parts of the body varies more or less, but 
this is the general order: soles, under arms, nec'k> 
under chin, waist, ribs and cheeks. Many cbildrert 
can be thrown almost into fits by a little ticklirigy and 
at some we need only point the finger to send thctti 
into gales of laughter. Dr. Hall considers this great 
sensitiveness a survival of ancestral experiences in 
tropical lands, where the sense of touch must be very 
delicate to escape the bite of poisonous insects. Why 
the experience now should be so highly pleasurable, 
instead of a source of terror, is, to say the least, inex- 
plicable, on this theory. 

Another source of merriment to children is founa in 
the animal world. Children, says Dr. Hall, have a 
closer connection with animals than adults do, because 
the organs common to men and animals, which in the 
adult are atrophied, are relatively larger in the child. 
There are over one hundred and forty of such organs, 
and they furnish a larger background of common feel- 
ing than is possible with the adult. The animals which 
are most often the cause of merriment are, in the 
order of frequency, the dog, cat, pig, monkey, rooster, 
crow\ chicken, duck, ape, goose, sheep, cow, and 
horse. Children are also prone to laugh at what is for- 
bidden or secret. This is due to a relief of tension, 



2l6 THE CHILD 

Dr. Hall thinks, and is injurious on every account. It 
lessens the restraint upon social decency, and gives 
rise to wrong feelings about sexual subjects. It fur- 
nishes still another argument in favor of giving a child 
knowledge of such matters. 

Anger and fear are commonly considered instinctive 
emotions, that is, certain objects, upon the first 

acquaintance with them, will call out the 
AnsTBr. 

same feelings and expressions from all 

men. Darwin observed that as early as the eighth day 
his child wrinkled his forehead and frowned before 
crying, as if angry; and in the second month Perez 
observed that the child showed anger by pushing away 
with a frown objects that he did not like. In the 
fourth month anger is certainly shown; the face and 
head become red, and the cry shows irritation. This 
is caused at first by delay in supplying food; but two 
or three months later will be called out by any thwart- 
ing of desire, such as the dropping of a toy. 

Anger at this early age, it must be noted, is simply 
the instinctive rebelling against pain. It is wholly 
unreasonable and is best dealt with by diverting the 
child's attention if the deprivation is for the child's 
good. As a child gets a little older, especially if it is 
a boy, he is likely to vent his anger by beating the 
person or thing that offends him, or by throwing 
things at them. Here, also, until a child can be 
reasoned with, diversion oi attention and the final 
securing of an expression of affection is the wisest 
method of treatment. 

At best only a few of the causes of anger can be 
enumerated. There is, in the first place, what may be 
called an irascible disposition, with which some seem 



FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 



217 



to be born. Disappointments and vexations which 

others would hardly notice result in violent outbursts 

of temper. Personal peculiarities of speech, 

. . - Causes of 

gait, dress — almost anything, in fact — may anger. 

lead to a hate that is almost murderous 

in its vindictiveness. When a child is so unfortunate 

in disposition, only the most constant, temperate, 

kindly training in self-control will help him. 

There are, in some cases, physical conditions caus- 
ing constant irritation which are reflected in this bad 
temper. Hence parents should first of all ascertain 
whether the child is healthy. Fatigue is also a com- 
mon cause of irritability. With older children as with 
younger the thwarting of expectations is one of the 
most common causes of anger. A child to whom a 
promise has been broken, who has been "fooled," who 
has been called home before he finishes his game, is 
usually an angry child. Anger over a violation of 
justice or principle is relatively uncommon in chil- 
dren. The feeling of pain or the suffering of personal 
injury is usually the underlying cause. 

As to the method to be used in controlling anger 
we find the most conflicting theories. The natural 
tendency is to express the anger in some 
way — to strike or bite or scratch, or at anger^^^^ 
least to say sharp words or to slam a door. 
Many men find great relief in swearing and others 
think vigorously what they dare not say. In all these 
cases, there is some vent for the emotion, and usually 
it is some kind of reaction against the person who 
caused the anger. Dr. Colin Scott has collected 
cases of girls who, when angry, would picture them- 
selves as dead, and the person who had injured them 



2 l8 THE CHILD 

as suffering from romorsc. He advocates this as 
a healthy outlet for an emotion which, if kept in and 
allowed no expression, causes more and more resent- 
ful brooding over the wrong. 

It is true that nothing can be worse than to brood over 
an injury, but expression of the anger is not the only 
alternative for this. Anything that keeps the mind off 
the injury and uses up the energy is equally service- 
able. A long walk, chopping wood, carpentry work, em- 
broidery — anything that is not so habitual as to be auto- 
matic, anything that forces one to attend to it, may be 
the vent for anger. Then after a time, the first strength 
of the emotion passes away, and we can combat it by 
reason and by the cultivation of love or pity in its place. 

It is doubtful if anything but harm comes from allow- 
ing ourselves to express any bad emotion. The very 
expression reenforces the feeling and makes it more 
lasting. We can do naught but condemn the atti- 
tude which is cultivated by picturing one's self as the 
injured party, the cause of remorse to others. One 
may or may not have been injured when one has been 
angered, but whether one has or not, the pose of self- 
righteousness, of the injured martyr, is the pose of a prig 
and has nothing admirable in it. In short, to repress 
the expression of anger, and to cultivate the expression 
of love, is in large part to repress the anger and increase 
the love, and is the best training in self-control. 

Jealousy appears very early, even in the nursing child, 
who gets angry if another child is given his bottle. It 
is caused by any prospect of another 
usurping one's own pleasures, and is best 
treated in much the same way as anger — by the culti- 
vation of sympathy and love. 



PEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 



519 



None of the emotions of children have been so care- 
fully studied as fear; for there is none which gives 
more anxiety to parents or is more difficult 
to overcome, especially with little children. 
Many students of child nature believe that there are 
instinctive fears, as well as fears that are the result of 
sad experiences. Others maintain that fears cannot 
properly be called instinctive because the objects 
which call them out vary widely. Thus some children 
are always afraid of darkness; others are wholly 
unaffected. Perhaps in view of this variation we shall 
be nearest the truth if we say that anything which 
makes a child feel helpless or insecure, or that startles 
him, is very likely to cause fear. 

The very first fears, which come at least as early as 
the third month, are due almost entirely to sudden sur- 
prise. Loud or unexpected sounds, therefore, such as 
thunder or the banging of a door, or the furious bark- 
ing of a dog, are the most common causes of these 
fears. A little later, strange objects and persons call 
out protests and tears from many children, but the fear 
is only slight. The recovery from it may be followed 
by laughter and delight. This makes it possible to 
train a child to face little fears, and afterward larger 
ones, bravely. 

In Sully's record the first fears of things seen were 
called out by a strange place in the fourth month, and 
by a strange face in the sixth month. This latter 
fear was not overcome for a year. New clothes may 
cause terror, and tossing in the arms and learning to 
walk alone also cause many fears. In both these cases, 
the feeling of insecurity is doubtless the potent factor. 
Dolls that have anything unusual about the.m, such as 



220 THE CHILD 

oddness, or ugliness, or broken members, also arouse 
fear. In this class also should be put fears of appar- 
ently uncaused occurrences, such as a feather floating 
in the air, or the shadow of a cloud moving over the 
grass. Some observers of animals claim that this is 
what makes horses shy at a bit of paper in the road. 
The story of the dog who was frightened into a fit by 
seeing a bone moved by an invisible thread also 
belongs here. Fear of the dark does not occur until 
the fourth month or later, as a rule, and is closely 
connected with imagination. 

All these fears may rise at any time with children 
who never had them before, and they may persist 
through life, or remain for only a short time. Fear of 
black things, black animals, black dresses, black 
places, and fears of furs and of teeth, occur also 
with some children without any experience to justify 
them. Whether they are reverberations of ancestral 
or prenatal experience or not, we cannot say. 
Preyer records that at ten months, his boy was afraid 
of high tones; and at twenty-one months, of the sun. 
Doubtless each parent can cite other individual 
instances. 

Let us consider now the proportions of children who 

have and who have not fears, and the numbers and 

the causes of the fears. It seems to be the 

^t\lVtl^^^ case that deaf children fear more kinds of 
of fears. 

things than normal children, and have more 
imaginary fears. The sense of helplessness is more 
prominent. Imbeciles, on the other hand, have fewer 
fears, for they do not know enough to be afraid. 
Miss Calkins has investigated the fears of children 
with these results: 



FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 

All Children 



22 I 





Under 
3 Years 


3 TO 6 
Years 


6 TO i6 
Years 


No fear 


39% 
6i 


11-5% 
88.5 


5 % 
88.2 


Fear 



Comparison of Boys and Girls 





Under 6 Years 


6 TO 16 Years 




Boys 


Girls 


Boys 


Girls 


No Fear 


17-4% 
82.6 


24.2% 
75.8. 


1.7% 
98.3 


0% 


Fear 







The girls show less variety in their fears and are 
less afraid of imaginary things than the boys. 
Under three years, 66 per cent of the fears were of 
things seen, and 23 per cent of things heard, an exact 
reversal of the fears of the baby. Both of these 
diminish somewhat by the sixth year, and the number 
of miscellaneous fears increases. The change in the 
objects of fear at different ages is also very interesting: 





CD 

g 
X 

H 


►J 

Oh 

M 


H 

s 

X 



< 

Q 




< 

S5 


w 

D 
H 
< 


Under 6 years. . . . 
9 to 14 years 


7.3% 
2.2 


17.2% 
2.4 


2.5% 
2.2 


9.8% 
1-3 


14-7% 
60.6 


26.2% 
13-7 


4% 
93 



Imaginary fears increase from 27 per cent at the age 
of six to 55 per cent at fourteen. Indeed, we may 
probably class the enormous increase in the fear of 
wild animals as an imaginary fear to a large extent, for 
few children have any actual experience with wild 
animals. The fear of domestic animals decreases. All 
fears of the other things with which the child deals 
constantly, decrease steadily, except fear of nature. 



222 



THE CHILD 



Here the feeling of helplessness and uncertainty seems 
to increase with experience. A comparison of these 
observations with the reminiscences collected by Dr. 
Hall which are far more numerous than any others, 
and by Holbrook, will be of interest. 

Objects of Fear Under 23 Years of Age 





Hall 


Calkins 


Holbrook 


Thunder 


Girls 

14% 


BOYS 

9% 




1% 


Lierhtnine: 






Persons 


II 

II 



6 

6 


9 
9 
9 
4 
3 


7.6% 


18 


Reptiles 




Darkness 


4.4 


22 


Death 


6 


Domestic animals.. 
Wild animals 


18.4 
43.4 


12 


Rats and mice 


4 

4 

4 

3i 

3 

3 

2f 

2| 


3 

2 

f 

31 

2 

2 




Insects 






Ghosts 

Wind 


2.2 


-I'o 


End of world 






Water 






Robbers 






Miscellaneous. ..... 




3 
I 


Monsters 




Hill 








3 

4 


Vague Fears 

















Dr. Hall gives an average of 2.21 per cent fears for 
each boy, and 3.55 for each girl, while from other 
figures he gets an average of 2.58 for each boy, and 
5.46 for each girl. 

For different ages the averages are: 





Under 4 


4 TO 7 


7 TO II 


II TO 15 


15 TO 18 


18 TO 26 


Bovs 


1.76% 
4.89 


1.5% 
2.44 


3.56% 
4.34 


3.69% 
6.22 


3.60% 
10.67 


2.55% 
4.31 


Girls 





This directly contradicts Miss Calkins' observations 
for children under the age of six, as she found that 



FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 



223 



girls have fewer fears than the boys; and she does not 
find the difference after six so great as Dr. Hall does. 

In considering the objects of fear, we find two seri- 
ous discrepancies between the three observers: the fear 
of darkness varying from 4 per cent to 22 Discrep- 
per cent; and the fear of wild animals vary- ancles, 
ing from o to 43 per cent. The other slight variations 
would probably disappear with more observations, but 
these two points of variation are difficult to explain. 
Even if we count reptiles, insects, and rats and mice 
as wild animals, the total is but 15 per cent as against 
43.4 per cent. Evidently much more careful observa- 
tion is necessary here. Dr. Hall says further that the 
fear of the world and of kidnapping decreases with 
maturity, while fear of thunder and lightning, robbers, 
reptiles, and insects increases. Fear of wind, water, 
darkness, domestic animals, ghosts, death, and disease 
increases at pubescence and decreases later. 

Dr. Hall is very fond of referring fears to ancestral 
experiences, that is, he makes them instinctive sur- 
vivals of a life under other conditions. We 
have already seen, however, that the fears Causes of 
vary so much that this explanation is 
hardly tenable. It seems more reasonable to refer 
many apparently causeless fears to nervous shock or to 
the feeling of helplessness and strangeness. Of course, 
pictures and stories are also common causes of fear. 

Where fear is purely the result of nervous shocks it is 
difficult to control. Many people who know the harm- 
lessness of it, are, nevertheless, stricken 
with terror by thunder. The most that can fear*'*®^*'^ 
be done in such cases is to hold the mind 
to the conviction of the harmlessness of the object 

15 



224 



THE CHILD 



feared. In other cases, such as fear of the dark, or of 
ghosts, entire control can be attained by this method, 
especially if the child's pride is stimulated so that he 
wants to overcome his fear. 

It should be needless to say that a child Ought never 
to be frightened unless fear is the only thing to keep 
him out of harm. It is true that "a burnt child dreads 
the fire," and fear is potent in many directions, but 
the parent or teacher who habitually appeals to it is 
cultivating low motives. It would, perhaps, be going 
too far to say that fear should never be employed, but 
it should be a last resort and the necessity of using it 
declares a deficiency either in teacher or in child. 

Bashfulness is an offshoot of fear, the survival in a 
lessened form of what was active terror in our ances- 
tors. It appears in the little child as an 
Bashfulness. . ^ , . , . ^ 

mstinctive shrmkmg from strange persons 

and things. It is not marked enough to be called fear. 
However, it may be overcome under proper condi- 
tions by imitation, but is succeeded in the second or 
third year by a second shyness, which is due to self- 
consciousness. The three-year-old hides and yet 
looks; he wants to become acquainted, but can not for- 
get himself enough to do so. Such bashfulness is 
likely to obtrude itself under unusual circumstances 
until adolescence is passed. 

Out of nine hundred children 40 per cent remember 

a Christmas or a birthday as the happiest day of their 

lives; and 25 per cent remember an excur- 

Q«I^™^ sion or a picnic on account of the fun that 

sorrows. i^ ^ 

they had. Anything of a pleasing nature 
which introduces novelty into a child's life delights 
him. 



FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 22^ 

The death of some relative or friend caused the 
unhappiest day for 50 per cent of the children, while 
sickness, physical punishment or disappointment 
caused it for 35 per cent. In general, the greatest joys 
and sorrows of a child at any time or age are con- 
nected with the satisfaction or thwarting of his strong- 
est interest. 

The first expression of sympathy is purely imita- 
tive. The baby of six months draws down his mouth 
when others cry, and laughs in response to 
laughter. If James's theory of the emo- anHitT 
tions be true, this instinctive reaction 
creates a corresponding state of mind, at least to a 
slight degree, which is the basis of sympathy. As a 
child grows older, he learns more and more by 
experience what states of feeling certain expressions 
stand for, and is able to put himself into the other 
person's place. Preyer records that in the twenty- 
seventh month his son cried with pity at seeing paper 
dolls cut in two. This first pity is, as we should 
expect, shown in connection with physical things — 
hunger and cold, lack of shelter and clothing. On the 
other hand, children frequently laugh at deformity 
and sorrow. One of the sad chapters in the lives of 
feeble-minded children is that they can seldom be 
allowed to play with normal children because they are 
badly treated. Such ill treatment is not, however, so 
much a sign of cruelty in children as of ignorance, and 
can usually be cured by showing the child the real 
suffering that he is causing. 

In the same way he can be taught kindness to ani- 
mals. It is certainly true that very often when children 
are hurting animals cruelly and are laughing at their 



226 ^^^ CHILD 

contortions of pain, they do not see anything more than 
the mere movements, as of a jumping-jack. Their 
fondness for practical jokes shows this same charac- 
teristic. The only cure for such lack of sympathy is a 
wide experience and a constant exercise of the imag- 
ination in "putting yourself in his place." When 
Marie Antoinette was told that the starving peasants 
of France had no bread to eat she asked in all simplic- 
ity, "Then why do they not eat cake?" She lacked 
the experience necessary for sympathy. 

It is commonly said that the child's first affection is 
given to his mother and is based upon his physical 
dependence on her and his pleasure in the 
warmth and comfort he obtains from her. 
It is difiFicult, however, to see how anything but the 
feeling of dependence and of personal enjoyment can 
rise from this basis. Rather we take the ground that 
Dewey does, that sympathy which seeks an outlet in 
action is love, and that antipathy which seeks an out- 
let in action is hate. When our liking for a person 
depends solely upon his usefulness to us, it is unworthy 
of the name of love. 

To return to the baby, his first spontaneous caresses, 
are, naturally enough, given to the one who tends him 
and whom he knows best — his mother. As he grows 
older, the love of parents and of friends can show 
itself more and more in different ways, and his first 
responses, which were to a large extent instinctive and 
vague, also become more varied. His love for his 
parents deepens and widens to include friends and 
God. 

Mothers sometimes lament the growth of their chil- 
dren to manhood and womanhood, as if the bonds of 



FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 227 

love were lessened thereby. This may happen where 
a child is allowed to accept without any return the 
greatest sacrifices from his parents. He is 
thereby taught selfishness and allowed to Selfishness 
think that his good is distinct from his par- '"^ ^^"'*^°^- 
ents' and superior to it. It is sometimes said that the 
most selfish person is the one most tenderly loved. 
There is a certain truth in this. 

Love is, in its very nature, active and self-sacrific- 
ing, and increases in proportion to what it does. If it 
is expended upon a selfish person who is believed to 
be worthy of it, or if it is called out toward a sick or 
helpless person, it finds ample room for growth. So 
when a child is little, the parents' love is peculiarly 
tender, and it is hard to have this love grow into a 
different, though equally strong one, and still harder 
to train the child to love by teaching him sympathy 
and service. 

Love and service are, however, inseparable terms, 
and so, even from babyhood, the little one should be 
allowed and encouraged to do his best in helping about 
the house, in comforting his parents in their worries 
and in celebrating their joys. 

In every possible case some act expressive of his 
love should be suggested, and with it, the loving word 
and the caress. Anglo-Saxons are prover- 
bially reserved; in our fear of hypocrisy, Caresses. 
we go to the other extreme of reticence. Many a 
child can remember each individual kiss that he has 
received from parents who would give their lives for 
him if necessary, and who do sacrifice many pleasures 
and luxuries. Such restraint works a harm to the 
child in allowing him to believe himself unloved in 



228 'T^^ CHILD 

contrast to his more fortunate companions who are 
kissed and caressed. He is not of an age to under- 
stand the love that gives up comforts to provide him 
an education, while leaving him without the loving 
woid and the kiss for which he longs. Parents do 
themselves wrong in their children's eyes, and hurt the 
children by such methods. Is it not better to have 
both the act and the word or caress? We understand 
that words without deeds are vain, but why should we 
not have words with deeds? 

Finally, there is no better way to cast out hate, jeal- 
ousy and all their brood than by service; loving serv- 
ice if possible but any sort of service at 
service^ first to which we can persuade the child. 

A forced kindness later becomes sponta- 
neous if persisted in. While it may only breed hypoc- 
risy in a child to compel him to treat kindly a child 
whom he dislikes, yet we can very often call his 
attention to some interesting or lovable or pitiable trait 
so that he will of his own accord help the child and 
grow to like him. 

Richter tells us to teach our children to love, and 
they will need no ten commandments, and we have a 
higher authority than his for the belief that the Law 
and .the prophets are summed up in the command- 
ments to love God, and to love our neighbor. 

REFERENCES 

Baldwin, J. Mark. Bashfulness in Children. Educ. Rev., Vol. 
VIII., 434-441. (Same as in Mental Developtnent.) 
Mejttal Development: Methods and Processes. See Index. 
N. Y., Macmillan. $1.75. 

Bowles, Mary E. Emotions of Deaf Children Compared with Emo- 
tions of Hearing Children. Ped. Sent., October, 1895, 331-334. 



FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS 



229 



Boyd, A. K. H. Concerning the Sorrows of Childhood. Atlantic, 

Mo., Vol. IX. 
Carpenter, E. Affection in Education. Int. Jottr. of Ethics, 

1899, Vol. IX., 482-494 
Compayre, G. hitellectual and Moral Development of the 

Child, 16 s-20^. First Emotions. N. Y., Appleton. $1.50. 
Darwin, C. Biography of a Child. Mifid, 1877. 
Dugas, L. La timidite. Paris, Alcan. 
Falkenthal, K. Emotional Life of Children. We lies ley Coll. 

Psy. Studies. Ped. Sem., Vol. III., 319-330. 
Groos, Karl. The Play of Man, 166-169, 232-237. N. Y., Apple- 
ton. $1.50. 
Hall, G. S. Anger. Am. Jour. Psy., 1899, ^^^- X., 516-591. 

Education of the Heart. Kg7i. Mag., May, 1S99, Vol. XI , 

592-595. (Asserts that children need the rod, fighting, etc., 

to prevent them from becoming parasites.) 
Fears. Am. Jour. Psy., 1897, Vol. VIII., 147-249. 
Hall, G. S., and AUin, A. Psychology of Tickling, Laughing and 

the Comic. Am. Jour. Psy., Vol. IX., 2-40, 234-240. 
Hall, G. S., and Saunders, F. H. Pity. Am. Jour. Psy., Vol. 

XL, 534-591- 
Harrison, M. M. Child's Sense of Fear. Arena, 1896, 960-969. 
Holbrook, A. S. Fear in Childhood. Barnes's Studies in Educ, 

pp. 18-21. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. 
Kitchin, J. M. W. Infantile Grief. Babyhood, June, 1892. 
Maitland, Louise. Children's Attitude towards Ghosts. (Fear.) 
Barnes's Studies in Ed., b^-b'j,i'](i-i-]']. Chicago. University 

of Chicago Press. 
Mosso, A. Fear, Chapter XI. N, Y.. Longmans. $1.75. 
Perez, B. First Three Years of Childhood, Chapter V. Syra- 
cuse, Bardeen. $1.50. 
Preyer, W. Sejises and Will, 140-176. N. Y., Appleton. $1.50. 
Ribot, Th. Psychology of Emotiojis. See Index. N. Y., Scrib- 

ner. I1.25. 
Siviter, Anna P. Fear of Childhood. Kgn. Mag., October, 

1899, Vol. XII., 82-87. 
Stanley, Hiram. Evolutionary Psychology of Feeling. See 

Index. N. Y., Macmillan. $2.25. 
Stevenson, A. Jealousy in Infants. Science, October, 1892. 



2 30 



THE CHILD 



Stryker, Mabel F. Children's Joys and Sorrows. C. S. M., 

October, 1898, 217-225. 
Sully, James. Studies of Childhood. Subject of Fear. 190-227. 

N. Y., Appleton. $2.50. 
Vostrovsky, Clara. Children's Superstitions. Barries' s Studies 

in Edu c, i2yii\3. Chicago. University of Chicago Poiss. 



CHAPTER XII 

Interests 

The use of the plural number in the title — interests 
instead of interest — emphasizes the fact that we do 
not wish to concern ourselves with the dis- introduc- 
cussion of theories so much as with the *io^- 
presentation of observed facts. We shall touch upon 
the various theories of interest — the singular — only 
incidentally, and instead shall discuss what children 
are interested in and what bearing their interests have 
upon our treatment of them. 

In discussions of interest, it is usually assumed 
that every one knows what interest is and what it 
involves; but there is, in reality, no one 
mental attitude more difificult to disentangle iSieres^^ 
from others than this one. So closely is it 
connected with our feelings and emotions, our expec- 
tations and reasons, our decisions and will, that we 
stand amazed at its complexity. 

Interest seems to express the whole personality more 
completely than any other mental attitude. Show me 
a man's interests and I know the man, both his 
habits and his ideals. We might say that interest is 
the impulse to self-preservation, directed toward a 
definite object or idea. It is the impulse of the man 
to realize himself in some particular form. The musi- 
cian's interests, the business man's interests, the 
scholar's interests are, each of them, the man's desire 
impelling him to secure the satisfying thing 

23X 



232 



THE CHILD 



Interest is not, then, a passive thing in the begin- 
ning. We are interested in so far as we take an inter- 
est or have an interest. This first interest, it is true, 
may have others derived from it, but we must at the 
beginning hold an active attitude toward life rather 
than a passive one. The baby's eye longs for light 
and so receives it gladly. His hands crave things to 
touch as much as his lungs crave air. So we find con- 
stant action and reaction between the baby and his 
surroundings. 

Interest thus includes both feeling and thought and 
points toward action. It is the focusing of the state 
of consciousness preliminary to action. It is atten- 
tion, but attention with especial reference to the 
feeling which prompts it and to the action which 
follows. 

Concerning the feelings which prompt interest we 
may say that they are in the first place instinctive feel- 
ings, the reverberations of ancestral expe- 
Heredity riences 

and interest, i'^^^*-^^- 

There can be no doubt now that any child 
is not simply the child of his parents, but of all his 
ancestors. Traits that do not appear in either father or 
mother, but that go back to some ancestor of perhaps 
a hundred years before, may suddenly crop out in some 
feature, some deformity or beauty, some trick of voice 
or carriage. When we consider that if we carry direct 
inheritance back only eight generations, there are two 
hundred and fifty-six direct ancestors, we can see how 
immensely complicated a thing inheritance is. Eight 
generations are nothing to an individual with an ances- 
try going back millions of years, and yet, if the present 
view of inheritance be true, all those millions of years 



INTERESTS 



3 



of inheritance of living and acting are summed up in 
each one of us to-day. 

Biologists have proved again and again that the 
human embryo in its development passes through 
well-marked stages representing the great divisions of 
animal life, and now anthropologists are teaching us 
that from birth to maturity the child also passes 
through definite stages representing the progress of 
mankind. Neither biologists nor anthropologists claim 
that the child repeats all the stages of evolution. 
Rather, he goes through only certain of the most im- 
portant ones, and skips the rest. 

What is true on the side of physical growth seems 
also to be true on the side of feeling and acting. 
All babies have certain instinctive ways of feeling and 
acting toward certain stimuli, and these are what 
prompt them to learn more about the object or to get 
away from it, that is, to show an interest, either 
pleasurable or painful. 

Such a feeling is not by itself an interest. An inter- 
est comes when the craving receives satisfaction from 
some definite object. The baby sees and grasps the 
bright soft ball and then has an interest in the ball. The 
artist imagines the beautiful form. He has an interest 
in it. In all cases, when the obscure craving finds some 
definite object, or idea, which joins to it satisfaction or 
frustration, there is a pleasurable or painful interest. 

Interests may be either natural or acquired — natural, 
when the object or idea is in itself attractive ^^cquired 
or repellent; acquired, when it derives its and natural 
interest from something else. ^ eres s. 

A beautiful color, or a loud sound, are examples of 
the first. If, however, we love the color because it is 



234 



THE CHILD 



a dear friend's favorite, the interest is derived; so also 
if we dislike the sound because it reminds us of a 
dreadful accident. Acquired interests call into play 
an appreciation of the relation of means to ends and of 
effects to causes; natural interests do not. 

As interests thus call into play both feeling and 
thinking and point toward action, we shall get the 
best concrete view of them available with our present 
knowledge by presenting a brief summary of what we 
have had so far and an outline of the consequent 
action. That is, we shall try to draw a picture of the 
child at each of the typical stages: (i) Babyhood, up 
to the acquisition of speech; (2) early childhood, up to 
the second dentition; (3) later childhood, to the advent 
of puberty; and (4) adolescence, to the completion of 
the bodily growth. 

For the first two months of his life, we may fairly 
say that the baby's chief interest is in what goes into 
his mouth. Not only are the lips and the 
of^babjThood^ tongue the parts most sensitive to touch, 
but touch is relatively more developed than 
other senses. Hearing is imperfect and sight is short 
and uncontrolled. The arms and legs are not under 
control for grasping and creeping, so that the baby 
must perforce wait for what comes his way. Further- 
more, he spends a large part of his day in sleep. What 
little display of anger he makes is when he does not 
get his food promptly. So the baby is a dimly-see- 
ing, dimly-hearing, little creature, sleeping much of 
the time and conscious chiefly of the satisfaction of 
food. 

During the third month, however, with more distinct 
seeing and the rise of memory, comes a marked interest 



INTERESTS 



235 



in seeing things. Now the baby holds his head up, 
twists his head and body to see things, and studies 
everything about him, learning it in its various appear- 
ances. The interest in suckable objects continues and 
is strong, but its prominence is relatively less because 
visible objects have now become so interesting. 

From the fourth to the sixth month, both of these 
interests continue, and are fed and supplemented by 
the great interest in graspable objects. Grasping and 
sucking, seeing and grasping, seeing, grasping and 
sucking are now combined and find their satisfaction 
in superlatively interesting, seeable graspable and 
suckable objects. 

The baby is now getting control of his body, and 
between the fifth and sixth months the rise of the 
instinct of imitation gives him endless desire to exer- 
cise this new control. Anything which he can imitate 
now becomes interesting and as the movements and 
voices of persons are most imitable, they become most 
interesting to him. The instinct of speech arises a 
little later, and then the baby begins to babble and to 
imitate the sounds about him. After some months of 
babbling and imitating he succeeds in beginning to 
use speech as well as gestures and cries to express his 
thought. 

The craving of the growing limbs for more exercise 
results in creeping and later in walking, with the wide 
range of new activities and interests thus made pos- 
sible. 

So, during the first year and a half, the baby's inter- 
ests are connected with the exercise and control of the 
sense-organs and of the larger muscles of the body. 
By the end of this time he can usually walk and 



236 



THE CHILE) 



talk, and use his five senses with a fair degree of accu- 
racy, though he still is lacking in control in many 
respects. 

From the acquisition of speech to the time of the 
second dentition, the interests of babyhood are still 
Interests strong, but are shown in more attention to 
ofeariy the details of the activities. The child 

childhood. ^^^^ likes to playgames that test the sharp- 
ness of the senses; he likes to experiment with new 
movements — to walk on tiptoe, to skip and dance, 
to play finger-games, to draw, to string beads and 
so on. 

His interest in imitating persons is greater than 
before. His plays at this time are very largely imi- 
tative. He imitates persons more than he does any- 
thing else. He personifies all sorts of inanimate 
objects, and the only cause he knows is a personal 
one. Through his interest in imitating persons he 
enters into the race interests which are going on about 
him — learns in a crude way how we get our food and 
so on. His interest in language persists in various 
forms, such as his delight in nonsense rhymes and his 
persistent desire to name all the objects he sees. His 
love of rhythm is also prominent and is closely 
connected with the increasing control of his move- 
ments. 

During the latter part of this period some new and 
strong interests arise. As memory and imagination 
develop they introduce the child to another world 
which he finds that he can change to suit himself, while 
he can not so alter the world of his senses. The love 
of power which in his babyhood was gratified by his 
new control of his body, now finds another source of 



INTERESTS 



m 



gratification in this mental play. We find him, there- 
fore, listening to and inventing tales of marvel and 
mystery. 

The rise of an interest in causes at this time also 
leads to wonderings and questionings and to specula- 
tions sometimes startling in their shrewdness. With 
many children there also seems to be an interest in 
enumeration and in quantities, as seen in the love of 
counting and in the comparisons of size. 

In the little child, then, up to the time of the second 
dentition, the interests are to a large extent confined 
to his delight in the feeling of his own activities and of 
his increasing control of them. On the physical side this 
appears in his enjoyment of plays that exercise his 
senses, in his practice of all movements that are a little 
difificult for him, and in his use of rhythm and of 
nonsense rhymes. On the mental side, it appears in 
his love of imagining and inventing, in his counting and 
measuring, and in his ceaseless questioning. The union 
of the two and also the growth of his social interests 
is marked above all by his love of imitation, the most 
characteristic interest of this period. 

In these early years the interests are immediate ones. 
The child enjoys the action for its own sake without 
much reference to any end. Little children who are 
playing "Pom pom pullaway," for instance, may for- 
get all about the goal in the delight of running, and 
end the game in a chase. So also a little fellow begins 
to draw the story of the Three Bears, gets interested in 
making the bear and covers his paper with bears. The 
movement or activity is what he enjoys. He does not 
care for making some tJiiiig so much as he does for 
going through the movements of making. On this 



238 



THE CHILD 



account a little child is usually easily diverted from 
one thing to another, if only the new thing allows the 
same general movements as the old. 

Educationally this is the period when interests can 
be given a more definite and permanently valuable form 
if the parent or teacher provides the materials for the 
child to work with, and surrounds him with a life that 
is worth the imitation. 

In the period from the second dentition to puberty, 
there is a great widening of interests due, on the 
Interests physiological side, to the rapid growth of 
ofiater association-fibers in the brain. The char- 

chiidhood. acter of the interest changes materially. 
The little child, as we have just said, is interested prin- 
cipally in doing for its own sake, and when he wearies 
of one activity, he turns at once to a new one. As he 
gets older, he begins to do things for the sake of get- 
ting or having something else. He makes the distinc- 
tion between end and means more clearly and the 
means have an acquired interest lent them by the nat- 
ural interest that the end has for him. Where the 
little child is well satisfied with the scrawl that he calls 
his drawing, the older will erase and draw over, and 
perhaps not be satisfied even when he is all through. 
The little child wants to put on his pretty dress regard- 
less of all else. The older child may want to also, but 
when he goes to make mud pies, he realizes the use of 
the plain dress. It has an acquired value, while the 
pretty dress has a natural value. 

Such acquired interests constantly increase in num- 
ber and in remoteness from the end, until we find 
the man or woman working for an end in a drudgery 
that has in itself little that is pleasant. 



tHE CHILD 



239 



The child of this age has interests outside of his own 
narrow circle, although they are still interests in per- 
sons. Thus a beginning can be made in 
history and science, the idea being to find J^e^^f^ow - 
out how people under certain conditions 
would be obliged to live, how they would be obliged 
to get food and clothing and so on. 

This interest in the "how" of things. Dr. Dewey 
warns us, however, is of slow growth. It arises in 
about this order, he thinks: reading, writing, numbers, 
science, history and literature. That is, a child first 
sees the advantage of knowing how to read and is inter- 
ested in learning words and sentences before he sees 
the use of learning how to write. His first interest in 
science and in history is the same as the little child's — 
the delight in activity and in a good story, but a little 
later he begins to experiment in science and to reason 
from cause to effect in history. The interest in why 
has become replaced by a curiosity as to lioiv things 
are done. In order to hold this interest in the "how" 
a child must also have experiences that make the 
"how" of use to him and he must have some end that 
lie himself wishes to reach. This point is too often 
neglected by teachers. They think that if they them- 
selves see the end, it is sufficient. But if the child does 
not know what he is working for, how can he be long 
interested? Or even if he is curious, how can he work 
at the adapting of his material to what he is making? 

To find out what children's interests are, a series of 
observations was made by Binet, Earl observa- 
Barnes and Shaw in this manner: They tions. 
made out a list of common words and asked the chil- 
dren to tell them what the thing was which was named. 

16 



240 



THE CHILD 



The children were taken separately so that they could 
not imitate each other. They were asked no questions 
and given no suggestions, but left to state their 
thoughts themselves. Left thus, it was believed that 
the children would describe the object according to 
their greatest interest in it. The list of words was as 
follows: 

knife mamma earthworm 

bread potatoes shoes 

doll bottle finger 

water flour clock 

armchair snail horse 

hat mouth wolf 

garden lamp omnibus 

All three observers found that the children were 
most interested in what they could do with a thing, or 
in its use to them. The great majority of them defined 
the words from this personal point of view. For ex- 
ample: "A mamma is to kiss me good night" ; "A 
lamp is to give me light." 

Next to use, they were interested in things that had 
action or movement. They showed very little interest 
in the structure or substance of things and less than 2 
per cent were interested in form. Only 3 per cent were 
interested in color, but the very small per cent in 
both these cases may be because the words given do not 
call up these ideas. Very few of the objects mentioned 
usually have any such coloring or structure as would 
Interest attract attention. At the same time, it is true 

in color that children have little general esthetic in- 

^^ ^^ ®' terest in the color of pictures. It is safe to 

say that practically all children prefer colored pictures 
to black and white. They also choose pictures which 



INTERESTS 



241 



they call "cunning," or "sweet" in preference to the 
masterpieces. A mother and child is usually preferred 
to a madonna, and pictures of children, kittens and 
puppies in playful antics mean much more than other 
pictures. Natural and lifelike pictures are preferred 
to ideal ones, and those that represent activity of 
some sort, to those of quiet scenes. In all this we get 
again the same truths: childish interests are in the 
personal and active sides of life. 

As the children grow older, they define the terms 
less according to the personal use, and more by put- 
ting them into a larger class. Their concepts become 
more prominent, and the central idea stronger. 
Formerly it was supposed that reason — of which the 
idea of cause and effect is a prominent part — did not 
develop until the age of fourteen or fifteen at least, 
but we understand now that it is of as long and 
gradual growth as our other mental powers. Nearly 
all children ask "why" before they are four years old, 
and this interest is a constant one, although it is by 
no means the most prominent one until maturity, if it 
is at that time. 

Another way in which children's interests have 
been observed is to find out what stories from their 
Readers they remember best. Nineteen interest 
hundred and fifty grade children have been in school 
questioned on this point with rather start- ®^ ®^^' 

ling results. It was found to begin with that 44 per 
cent of the pieces in four Readers, or nearly half, 
were remembered after one term by only 5 per cent 
of the children. Almost half of the material in 
these Readers was uninteresting, and this was to a 
very large extent the instructive and moral parts. 



242 



THE CHILD 



The first lesson in each Reader was remembered, 
and also the long or continued lessons. Those best 
remembered are, as we should expect, those which 
are especially natural, and which appeal to the child 
through experiences similar to his own. We find, e.g., 
that 32 per cent of the children remember stories of life 
best, and 12 per cent those of animals. Seven and 
one-half per cent give allegiance to stories with 
morals, 56 per cent to stories of heroism, and only 2 
per cent to instructive stories. At first the liking for 
poetry is simply enjoyment of rhythm, and not until 
adolescence does it begin to be enjoyed as literature.- 
Of course these interests were influenced by the way 
the stories were told. 

The Readers were, if we remember correctly, those 
in the state text-book series of Indiana, and were con- 
sidered to be about the average. 

Dr. Hall's Contents of Childre?is Minds is also 
interesting here as showing how little many of our 
Dr. Hall's Readers appeal to a child's own experience, 
tiest. His list of words was obtained largely from 

First Readers, and the children's ignorance is amazing. 

Out of 113 objects, 

go% are ignorant of 7 of them; 
80 to 90% " " " 14 " 

70 to 80% " " " 10 " 

60 to 70% " " " 21 " 

50 to 60% " " " 17 " 

making an average of over 60 per cent of the children 
who know not of the meanings of over half the words. 
With regard to the regular school subjects, observa- 
tions have also been made on two thousand children 



INTERESTS 



24, 



above third ^^radc. Arithmetic, history, j:^eography 
and spelling are by far the most popular studies, in the 
order named. Drawing, music and nature study can 
not compete with them. Probably, however, these do 
not show the natural interests of children, but rather 
are due to the conditions of this particular school. It 
is stated that drawing, for instance, is not much 
emphasized, and again, it is very true that the teach- 
er's interest controls the child's more or less. If there 
were a good arithmetic teacher and a poor drawing 
teacher, the child's interest might be just the reverse 
of his natural interests. 

Childish interests during this period may then be 
summed up thus: the interest in imitation is less 
prominent than before; the interest in imagining and 
wondering has become more clear cut and related to the 
needs of life. It shows itself as a greater interest in 
the relation of means to end, in the mechanism of life, 
or, in a more abstract form, as a love of classification. 
The child at this time therefore begins to enjoy simple 
experiments, he likes to make collections, he is think- 
ing more in the abstract. 

The language interest is smaller during the first part 
of this period but seems to revive in the latter part in 
the secret languages which we shall mention later. 
This seems to indicate the advantage of beginning the 
study of foreign languages at this time. 

The interest in the use of the senses is at least undi- 
minished, while the love of movement is much 
increased. The games of this period call for a far 
greater amount of muscular strength than before. 

The interest in persons becomes stronger and now 
the child delights in a history that describes heroic 



244 



THE CHILD 



deeds On the other hand, the moral and religious 
interests are not much dev^eloped as yet. 

In all cases an important difference exists between 
this period and the previous one, namely, that the 
child more and more, if given the opportunity, plans 
ways and means of reaching an end. The little child 
does this to a very limited extent. This and the 
greater variety of interests of the later period are due 
to the rapid growth of association fibers in the brain. 

Therefore the general educational problem of this 
period, to which all others are subsidiary, is to train 
the power of adapting means to ends, to cultivate 
acquired interests or the power of voluntary attention. 

The first essential is, of course, an end that to the 
child himself seems valuable, and this is supplied by 
the natural interests of which we have already spoken, 
directed into channels which are valuable for life 
to-day. 

Just in proportion as the end is keenly desired, all 
the details of the means are interesting. To the 
woman who loves ice-cream all the details of making, 
packing, and freezing are of interest. Drudgery goes 
back to one of two things— either the act is so simple 
that after it has been learned a few times, the mind 
finds no food for thought in it, or else the person has 
no interest in what he is doing, no end in life which he 
is striving to accomplish through the medium of this 
act. We need, therefore, to train children to see the 
bearing of all the little things of life upon the ideal 
character which they hope to be, upon the business 
which they hope to create, upon the profession which 
they intend to follow. Inability to connect ends and 
means; that is, lack of training a child to have acquired 



INTERESTS 



245 



interests, is a great defect in our educational system 
to-day. Such a connection between the end that the 
child desires and the means which have only an 
acquired value preserves the balance between pleasure 
and duty, and makes the strong-willed, reflective man. 

Finally, with the advent of puberty, and the last 
period of rapid brain growth, the child 
enters upon the last educational period, of^youth^^^*^ 
The period is now usually estimated to last 
to the time when bodily growth is complete, at aoout 
the twenty-fifth year. 

On the side of interest this period is not so much 
characterized by the rise of new interests as by the 
broadening and deepening of those already existent. 
The senses become more active and consequently there 
is a keener interest in observation of all kinds, in 
nature, and in science. The rapid development of the 
muscular system in boys results in the athletic craze. 
The wider development of reason appears in the doubts 
and questionings about the various systems of thought 
that the youth finds embodied in the school system, 
the political system, the religious system, and all the 
other systems. 

The most notable development of the period is 
doubtless the growth of the interest in persons which 
comes as the direct result of the sexual development 
of this age. The child now for the first time enters 
fully into his social inheritance, feeling the bonds 
which connect him with others and desiring the 
responsibilities and privileges of all adults. The 
moral law now appeals to him as a need of his own 
nature, and the obligation to do good for its own sake 
now becomes binding. In numerous ways his own 



246 



THE CHILD 



individual self is yielded to his social self, in ways both 
tragic and comic — in the devotion to dress and man- 
ners as well as in the abandonment to religious exalta- 
tion. It is hardly stating it too strongly to -say that 
the key to the adolescent is his interest in living up to 
what he conceives to be the social demands upon him. 
Control of him lies to a large extent, therefore, in 
controlling his conceptions of what these social 
demands are, and this is not a matter that begins only 
with adolescence. 

We have had occasion to remark many times before 
that social habits must be inculcated from the begin- 
ning, and we can now see the importance of 
ofeariy this. The youth who has now awakened 

social ^Q a vivid interest in his relations to others 

training. , , • r 1 , , • 1 , , 

has his sense of what these relations should 

be determined in part by the social habits which he 

has already acquired, and in part by the customs of 

the particular people with whom he is now thrown. 

Where the two sets of customs disagree, as is often the 

case, the child's consciousness of his own ambiguous 

position is very keen, and he brings all his judgment 

and reason to bear upon his decisions as to what he 

should do. Now he is fortunate if his social habits 

and his training in independent judgment are such that 

he can trust to his habits for all the smaller details of 

deportment and devote himself to the question of what 

his ideal shall be for the vital questions of life. 

In the shaping of this ideal or interest, as we have 

already said, we must call into play all the influences 

of surroundings — books, pictures, etc. — but more 

important than any of these to the adolescent is the 

wise and untiring friendship of some older person, 



INTERESTS 



247 



teacher or parent. Fortunate is the youth whose father 
and mother are his best friends — and sadly lacking in 
some respect are the parents who have not kept close 
enough to their children to be their best friends. 

We hear a great deal of talk about the importance of 
keeping children interested. Unless children like a 
school duty, a task, a dress, or a certain 
kind of food, it is assumed that they ought f^^e^'ir''^ 
not to be bothered with it. It is claimed 
they must follow their interests; that is, apparently, 
their caprices. What right have we to impose our likes 
on them? They surely should be as free as others to 
express their whole nature without let or hindrance. 

On the other side there are still advocates of the idea 
that the natural man is full of evil desires, so that the 
very fact that a child wants a thing is one good reason 
why he should not have it. Moreover, say these duty- 
lovers, life is full of disagreeable things that must be 
done. No one can succeed who does not learn to do 
cheerfully tasks that he dislikes. All progress is made 
only by pain and suffering in giving up our natural 
desires and in struggling toward our ideal, which we 
see is right but do not yet love. Therefore, say these 
stern teachers, the truest kindness consists in training 
our children to do work that they do not like. We 
should not appeal to their interests, but rather to the 
right, and lead them to make their interests agree with 
what is right. The happiness of a child is of very 
little account if only he is led into the paths of right- 
eousness. So hold the two extremes. Probably 
the majority of parents and teachers hold a middle 
ground, not believing either that the child should 
be wholly indulged or thwarted, and indulging or 



248 



THE CHILD 



thwarting according to their own particular likes. The 
mother who likes cabbage and does not like tomatoes, 
will usually feed her child the same way. The father 
who never lies, but finds it easy to criticise or back- 
bite his neighbor, will probably rebuke falsehood but 
let backbiting go unscathed. The parent who dislikes 
arithmetic and enjoys history finds it easy to condone 
his child's stupidity in the first but not in the second. 
In all cases we seem to lack any standard by which we 
judge whether or not a given trait in our child should 
be encouraged, whether or not he should be given free- 
dom to develop his own natural self. 

Now it is unquestionably a difficult thing to know 
what we shall do in any given case. On the one side, 
we want our children to grow up good citizens, good 
members of the family, and seekers after righteousness. 
On the other, we do not want them to be confined, fear- 
ful, distrustful of self; we wish them to live a broad, free 
life, to feel the swing and delight of power, and to live 
with force and vigor. Between the two we stand puzzled. 

If what we have said of social recapitulation be true, 
a child is at birth a bundle of strong but vague 
impulses and instincts that have come to 
es^sVs^indi- ^^"^ from numberless ancestors, that press 
viduai him into constant action in this way and 

interests. j^ that, and that cause great unhappiness 
and dwarfed development if repressed. 

We have had very elaborate theories worked out of 
these race-stages or culture-epochs, through which each 
child passes, and the proper studies for him at each 
stage, but such theories can not be said to have scien- 
tific value as yet. We can not say that because the 
race has gone through a certain stage, therefore the 



INTERESTS 



249 



child must go through it. Wc must instead study chil- 
dren, both individually and collectively, to see what 
race-stages they do repeat in fact, and the longer this 
study goes on, the more certain it is that only certain 
steps of race-progress are repeated in the individual. 

Still further, the fact that a child is in a certain cul- 
ture-epoch, does not mean that he must have only 
literature of that epoch to nourish his mind. It means 
rather that he is interested in the prominent activity 
of that period, and wants to go through that activity 
himself in the rough. 

It would be strange indeed if these impulses were 
either entirely good or entirely bad. They are all sur- 
vivals of a ruder civilization, and their value can be de- 
termined not merely by their antiquity, but by their 
adaptability to present-da}^ conditions. The habitual 
criminal is looked upon to-day as a person whose 
interests belong in the ages when violence was neces- 
sary to self-preservation; but these interests are not 
suited to civilized life, and so their possessor must 
give them up, or go to dwell among barbarians, or be 
confined in prison. As a rule, however, these instincts 
and impulses are fluent enough to take the usual social 
channels. It is the task of the parent and teacher to 
provide outlets which will utilize these streams of 
energy, instead of damming them. 

The training of interests consists, then, primarily in 
directing impulse and instinct to a worthy end, by all 
means — suggestion, good surroundings, Direction 
stimulation of curiosity, and so on. If an better than 
impulse can be so employed as to con- repression. 
tribute to the family life, the best possible thing is 
done. If conditions do not allow of this, at least the 



2c^O 



THE CHILD 



parents can take a rational attitude toward the chil- 
dren, instead of assuming that all the children want is 
to make trouble. We find, for instance, that as a rule 
parents are decidedly opposed to their boys digging 
caves. Under the usual conditions, where the cave is 
made a rendezvous for smoking and reading dime 
novels, there is good reason for objection. But are 
such conditions necessary? Surely not. So again, 
little children who run away do it usually because their 
own yard is so small and their companions are so few 
that they can not resist temptation. Instead of for- 
bidding them the freedom, we should rather exert our 
ingenuity to make the freedom safe, for through such 
wanderings a child acquires valuable independence, 
gets a sense of direction and distance, and makes his 
first venture into the social world outside the home. 

In general, then, we may say that we should not 
condemn a child's impulses unless they are of such a 
definite, fixed, and base nature as to work decided 
harm to himself or others. We should not try to 
repress impulses so much as to direct them into useful 
channels by suggesting to the children definite and 
valuable ends to be accomplished. 

^ REFERENCES 

Allin, A. Social Recapitulation. Educ. Rev., 1899, 344-352. 
Baldwin, J. Mark. Genesis of Social Interests. Monist, 1897, 

340-357. (Same as in Mental Devetopment. ) 
Mental Development, Social and Ethical Interpretations. 

See Index. N. Y. Macmillan, I2.60. 
Burk, C. F. Collecting Instinct. Ped. Sem., 1900, 179-207. 
Burk, F., and Frear, C, Study of Kindergarten Problem. San 

Francisco. Whitaker, ^0.50. 
Dawson, G. E. Children's Interest in the Bible. Ped. Sem., 

1900, 151-178. 



INTERESTS 



251 



Dewey, J. Interest as Related to Will. First Herbartia7i Year 
Book,\%Q,'^. Second Supplement. Chicago, University of 
Chicago Press. (Excellent on the theory of Interest.) 

Guillet, C. Recapitulation and Education. Ped. Sein., 1900, 

397-445- 
Hall, G. S. Children's Collections. Ped. Sevi., 1891, 234-236. 
Hancock. Mental Differences of Children. Proc. N. E. A., 

1897, 851-857. 
Harris, W. T. Interest and Will. Education, March, 1896. 

Psychologic Fouiidatio7is of Educatiofi. See Index. N. Y. 
Appleton, $1.50. 
Hogan, Louise. Study of a Child. Harpers, June, 1S98. 
Jones, H. Social and Individual Evolution. New World, 1898, 

453-469- 
Kline, L. W. Truancy as Related to the Migrating Instinct. 

Ped. Sein., Vol. V., 381-420. 
Lawrence, Isabel. Children's Interests in Literature. Proc. 

N E. A., 1899, 1044-51. 
Luckey, G. W. A. Practical Results Obtained from Study of 

Children's Interest. Proc. N. E. A., 1897, p. 284. 
McMurry, C. Interest. Ed. Rev., February, 1896. 
Monroe, W. J. Social Consciousness of Children. Proc. N. E. 

A., 1898, 921-928. 
Ostermann, W. Interest in Its Relatio7i to Pedagogy. N. Y. 

Kellogg, $1.00. 
Perkins. F. B. Childhood: A Study. Atlantic Monthly, \o\. 

XVIII. 
Rein (Van Liew's translation). Otttlines of Pedagogics. See 

Index. Syracuse. Bardeen, ^1.25. 
Rooper, T. G. The Child: His Studies a7td Occupations. N. Y. 

Kellogg, $0.15. 
St. John, G. E. Children's Interests. C S. M.. Vol. III., 284. 
Vandewalker, Nina. Culture-Epoch Theory. Ediic. Rev., 

January-May, 1S98, 374-391. (Very good.) 
Van Liew, C. E. Culture-Epoch Theory. First Herbartian Year 

Book. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. 
Wilson, W. E. Doctrine of Interest. Ed. Rev., March, 1896, 



CHAPTER XIII 

Impulsive, Reflex and Instinctive Movements 

1. Keep a record of the development in some indi- 
vidual child of the movements described in this chap- 
observa- ter. (i) Impulsive movements. Note 
tions. especially the posture of the baby in sleep. 
When does a child begin to sleep lying straight? 
(2) Reflex movements. Note especially whether, in 
cases of tickling or of brushing away an object, the baby 
uses the right hand or the hand on the same side of 
the body. That is, is he right-handed from birth, and 
if not, when does right-handedness appear? Note also 
the earliest inhibitions of movements. (3) Instinc- 
tive movements. Note especially to what degree the 
baby is impeded by long clothes. Watch for a climb- 
ing instinct. If possible, take instantaneous photo- 
graphs of the nude baby's positions in learning these 
movements. 

2. Gather reminiscences from young people or adults 
of any one of the following instincts: migrating 
instinct (running away from home) ; hunting instinct; 
cave-digging instinct; tent-living instinct; collecting 
instinct. In all cases note: . 

(i) Age when the instinct developed. 

(2) Length of time that it lasted. 

(3) Circumstances that called it out. 

(4) Strength. How much could it withstand in the 

252 



IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 2 s -^ 

way of inducements to other sports, commands 
of parents against indulging in it, etc.? 
(5) Is there any tendency to it now, such as hunt- 
ing trips, camping, etc After how long a 
period is this? 

With the discussion of movements we enter upon the 
last stage of our subject— the child's doing. Here, as 
in other cases, we are not preserving a mtroduc- 
strictly chronological order in our descrip- tion. 
tion, for as a matter of fact thinking and doing go 
hand in hand in mental development, each requiring 
the other in order for it to get beyond the rudimentary 
stages. So close is this connection that in the chapter 
on Perception we were obliged to anticipate this phase 
of the subject by discussing grasping in connection with 
seeing, and now in considering movements, we shall 
be referring constantly to the stimulus to movement 
given by the senses. 

In thus discussing feeling, thinking, and doing sep- 
arately, we have been guided principally by the desire 
to show clearly the continuity of the development of 
each mental process from birth to maturity, showing, 
for instance, how the character of conceptions and of 
religious ideas develops as the child matures. In thus 
abstracting each mental process from the others in 
which it is embedded, we do as does the dissector, who 
follows out before his class the course of but one nerve 
or blood-vessel, ignoring for the time the complex of 
other nerves, blood-vessels and tissues that enmesh it. 
Such a separation is imperative for purposes of study, 
but it is only preliminary to the attempt to see as a 
whole the living organism in which each nerve and 



254 



THE CHILD 



blood-vessel plays its part. So now that the growth 
of the child's body and of his mind has been studied, 
as far as the present state of child-study observations 
allows, comes at last the consideration of how he, with 
his body as a tool, learns to express his thought; for 
in this expression the whole childish self is most 
clearly revealed. 

Precedent to the child's conscious and voluntary 
expression of thought, however, is a stage during 
which he has little or no control over his movements. 
The activities at this stage do indeed express to us the 
baby's condition and his traits as a member of the 
human race, but he does not intend to express himself 
thus, and is unable either to make or prevent his 
movements voluntarily. 

Impulsive movements are also called spontaneous, 

random, or automatic. In the whole discussion of the 

subject there is great variety both in the 

Impulsive terms used and in the meanins^s attached to 
movements, ^ ^ , . 

the terms. Some writers class as instinc- 
tive what others call reflex, and others make instinc- 
tive movements cover nearly the whole range of human 
activities. In a book of this nature it would be useless 
and confusing to discuss and weigh such conflicting 
claims. We shall therefore imitate Tracy in using 
Preyer's classification, making the same reservation 
that Tracy does—that the use of Preyer's classification 
does not bind us to accept his theory of will. 

Impulsive movements are movements resulting from 
changes within the motor nerve cell itself. They 
seem to require no stimulus from outside, and no sen- 
sory elements. Many embryonic movements are 
impulsive, and also many of the movements present at 



IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 2^5 

birth, although their variety is not great. There are 
stretchings and bendings of arms and legs; spreading 
and bendings of fingers and toes; striking with the 
arms; stretching after waking; all sorts of grimaces; 
movements of the eyeballs before the eyes are opened; 
crowings and babblings; and the "accompanying 
movements," such as movements of the arms on hear- 
ing music or seeing bright colors or tasting agreeable 
food. 

The better the health and feeding of the child, the 
more numerous and vigorous are the movements likely 

to be. Their e^eneral use is evidently that 
, ^ . , Direction of 

they serve as exercises to prepare the mus- themove- 

cles for later instinctive and voluntary ments. 
action, and Mumford believes that they are also ves- 
tiges of movements that once were useful in the bodily 
economy but are no longer so. They are decaying 
instincts, so to speak. 

Why they take the particular form that they do 
seems to depend upon the prenatal posture and the 
bodily structure at the time of birth, as Trettien 
shows. The arm and leg movements are at first always 
in line with the body, that is, forward and back or up 
and down, never out and in. In the case of the arms 
this seems to be due especially to the shape of the 
chest and shoulders. As the back straightens and the 
chest expands, side movements become easier. With 
both arms and legs, the up and down movement is 
also the most natural on account of the habitual pos- 
ture of the baby. Trettien shows the habitual posi- 
tions of arms and hands at great length thus:* 

*The table55 are based on different numbers of children, vary- 
ing from 58 to 182. In all cases the tables are given in per cents. 
17 



256 



THE CHILD 



Position 


Male 


Female 


Average 


Fingers— 

Clenched. . . 


83% 
12 

5 

69 
31 

100 

66 
34 

98 
2 


87% 
4 

65 

35 

96 
4 

68 
32 

Q2 

8 


85 
8 


Bent 


Straight 


7 

67 

33 

98 
2 


Wrists— 

Bent 


Straight 


Elbows— 
Bent . 


Straight 


Shoulders— 

Bent . 


67 
33 

95 

5 


Straight . . . 


Arms — 

Laid in front 

Laid at side 



The legs are habitually bent at the hips and knees, 
the feet crossed, the soles turned toward the median 
line and the toes curled down over the soles. The 
whole body tends to assume the curve of the prenatal 
position. With such an habitual posture for trunk, 
arms and legs, and fingers and toes, what other move- 
ments are probable except the stretching of the back, 
the unbending of arms and legs, and the spreading of 
fingers and toes? 

These movements, as we can easily see, foreshadow 
the later movements — the arm movements those of 
reaching and grasping, the leg movements those of 
walking. We cannot so easily explain the extraordi- 
nary grimaces which often possess the baby's face at 
this time, but they probably mark the first paths of the 
facial expression which is to come later. We find that 
as voluntary movements increase, impulsive ones 
decrease in the normal person. Numerous connec- 
tions between the sensory and the motor centers are 
formed by education and experience so that the trend of 



IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS o^l 

development is away from impulsive movements rather 
than toward them. Yet Compayrc maintains that some 
persist even in the adult. 

Reflex movements differ from impulsive in that they 
require a peripheral stimulus to call them out, but, 
like them, no attention or idea is necessary 
for the performance. They are inherited, ^g^^g "^°^®" 
but the baby performs them more slowly 
and imperfectly at first than later. This is a decided 
advantage, for the baby has no power to inhibit move- 
ments for some time after birth, and if the reflexes 
were easily started, he would be subject to convulsions. 

Reflex movements may be called out in the latter 
part of the prenatal life by gentle stroking or by 
changes of temperature. After birth, they are 
numerous. Most important of all is the group of 
periodic reflexes, under which come the various actions 
necessary to sustain life. To this group belong all the 
actions connected with respiration. Breathing is 
itself a reflex act, due to the stimulation of the 
air, and the cry of the newborn child is caused by 
the spasmodic action of the larynx when the air 
reaches it. At first the breathing is very irregular and 
rapid, sometimes almost ceasing, and then continuing 
with greater force and rapidity. In the seventh week 
there are about twenty-eight respirations to the min- 
ute; in the twenty-eighth month, about twenty-two, 
but even then a stimulus which is insufficient to wake 
the sleeping child will cause a rapid increase in the 
number of respirations. 

Sneezing is possible even at birth, and with some 
babies takes the place of the first cry. Preyer pro- 
duced it on the thirty-eighth day by pouring warm 



258 



THE CHILD 



water on the baby's forehead; and on the one hundred 
and seventieth day by merely blowing in his face. The 
baby's eyes are always closed in sneezing. 

Swallowing is present even before birth. Coughing 
has been observed in the first hour; choking and hic- 
coughing on the first day; yawning on the seventh day; 
wheezing and snoring on the twenty-fourth day; and 
sobbing not until considerably later, about the seventh 
month in Preyer's boy. 

Other important periodic reflexes are the heart-beat, 
the contraction and relaxation of the arteries, the 
movements of the bowels, and so on. Regurgitation, 
which occurs as early as the first week, should also be 
mentioned here. 

Among reflexes that are not periodic should be men- 
tioned the group of eye-reflexes. In describing the 
development of sight these were discussed, and so 
need only be mentioned here. 

The entire body reacts to get rid of unpleasant 
stimuli, even from birth, although it requires a stronger 
stimulus then than later. The pain-reflexes are the least 
developed of all at birth. A baby can be pricked with 
a pin, even until the blood comes in some cases, with- 
out reacting. ■ 

But there is a stronger response to some other 
stimuli. Within five minutes of birth the toes will 
spread out if tickled, and, like the hands, will clasp 
any object laid within them. The reflex hand-clasp is 
one of the most remarkable for its perfection and 
strength. Robinson examined sixty newborn children 
and found that within one hour after birth they could 
all hang suspended from a stick by their hands, for a 
time varying from two seconds to one minute. Twelve 



IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 2^9 

hun^ for one-half minute and four for one minute 
without crying or showing any signs of distress. The 
strength of grip increased up to the third week, when 
several hung for one and one-half minutes. Here 
there seems to be a distinct survival of arboreal life 
habits, when the baby had to cling to its climbing 
mother in order to preserve its own life. All the arm 
reflexes are stronger at first than the leg reflexes, and 
the arms are relatively more developed than the legs. 

Other reflex movements occur to escape persistent 
stimuli. Preyer found that in tickling the temple the 
baby usually used the right hand to brush away the 
object; while Pfluger maintains that the hand on the 
same side is used as a rule. 

At first, as mentioned above, a baby has no control 
over its reflex movements; they must follow when the 
stimulus is given, whether he wishes them or not. 
Preyer dates the first inhibitions between the ninth and 
twelfth months when the child begins to show some 
slight control over bowel movements; but, although 
observations are lacking, one may fairly question 
whether before this time there are not some inhibitions 
of arm and leg reflexes or of those connected with 
respiration. In all cases the control is irregular at 
first, and fails if the child is tired, inattentive or not 
well. 

Instinct is differently defined by different writers, 
and the distinction between it and reflexes is by no 
means hard and fast. Instinctive move- 
ments seem to differ from reflex movements ^^^*i"i?!iT! 

movements. 

principally in being more complex and in 
having a less developed mechanism for their perform- 
ance than reflexes have. 



26o "^^^ CHILD 

Instinctive acts are inherited, that is, there is an 
inborn disposition to their performance, but they 
require a stimulus to start them, and they may be 
greatly modified or even suppressed by training. They 
are acts which have been serviceable to the race and 
are present to a greater or less degree in every mem- 
ber of it, but in man they vary so in their manifesta- 
tions that it is almost impossible to know what actions 
have an instinctive root and what have not. There 
are, however, certain acts which are clearly instinc- 
tive. 

In this list belong sucking, biting, chewing, grinding 
the teeth, and licking. Sucking comes the nearest of 
Movements any of these to a reflex act, and is some- 
centering times classed as one because brainless chil- 
about tne 
mouth. dren perform it as well as normal ones. It 

is usually complete at birth, but in some cases has to 
be partially taught. It lasts in its full strength until 
the first teeth come, but as we have already noted, for 
a long time most objects go to the child's mouth to be 
sucked and licked before the child feels that he really 
knows them, and even the adult likes at times to put 
something into his mouth to suck. Licking usually 
accompanies sucking, and is present even on the first 
day. 

Biting and chewing are instinctive acts which may 
appear as early as the fourth month, before any teeth 
are through. A baby will bite and chew his fingers, 
his rattle, the glass he drinks out of, etc. Grinding 
the teeth also appears to be a regular occupation. It 
may be done when but two teeth are .through, but 
usually not until about the ninth month, when four 
teeth are through. 



IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 26 I 

At birth the ability of children to lift their heads 
varies considerably. In some even on the first 
day, there is enough surplus energy to 
lift the head from its support; in others, ^^e^e^/d"^ 
not until the second or third week. The 
neck muscles are very small at birth, and increase in 
their growth to nine times their original size at matu- 
rity. At first the head, when unsupported, drops on 
the chest and rolls to one side. Preyer maintains that_ 
the dropping is not due to muscular weakness, but to 
lack of will, because even in the first week the head 
can turn to follow a moving light. This does not 
prove much, however, for the same muscles are not 
used in raising the head as in moving it from side to 
side. 

Miss Shinn records that at the end of the first month 
her niece could hold up her head unsteadily for a few 
seconds, and by the end of the second month could 
hold it steadily and continuously. Preyer's records 
date the act between the eleventh and sixteenth weeks, 
while Demme's observations on one hundred and 
fifty children place the event between the third and 
fourth months for strong children; at four and one- 
half months for moderately strong ones, and in the 
fifth or sixth month for weakly ones. 

The child has a strong incentive to hold the head up 
after the sixth or eighth week, for then convergence 
and accommodation of the eyes are established, so 
that he can see clearly. The attempts to raise the 
head not only strengthen the neck muscles, but those 
of the back and chest as well, so that they prepare the 
child for erect sitting, which follows almost imme- 
diately. 



262 THE CHILD 

Wc have described the development of this instinct 
Reachingand ^^ length in the chapter on Sensation and 
grasping. Perception. 

After the baby can see distinctly and has learned to 
hold his head up, he is very likely to resent being laid 
down in his crib, although before he was 
erecT^ well satisfied with that position. Now he 

insists upon a sitting position, where he 
can see the fascinating world about him. This desire 
to sit up comes between the second and fourth months 
as a rule, and the baby \\'\\\ make all sorts of efforts to 
lift himself by a supporting finger, or by strain of the 
abdominal muscles. He is very unlikely to succeed, 
however, unless he is somewhat raised to begin with, 
for neither back nor abdomen are strong enough alone. 

A baby who thus wants to see but cannot sit alone, 
should be provided with a cushioned support that will 
support and yet yield to movements, so that he can 
carry on his education without harm to himself. He will 
also get practice in sitting in his bath and in laps, and 
by some time between the fifth and eighth months will 
be able to sit alone on a hard smooth surface. By the 
eleventh month the baby's seat is firm, although when 
reaching for things he sometimes tips over. 

Both Preyer and Trettien insist that a baby should 
rather be discouraged than encouraged to sit alone, 
and that the back should at first be supported by a pil- 
low. Preyer says that he should not be allowed to sit 
up until he has proved his fitness by raising himself with; 
out encouragement from a prone to a sitting position. 

The first sitting position is very awkward. Usually 
the knees are bent and the soles turned toward each 
other like a monkev's. 



IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 



263 



In learning to walk, there are several well-defined 

stages. In the first place, long before the babv makes 

any attempts to move from the place where 

u • 1 • J u • 1 11 u • 1 Locomotion. 

he is laid, his legs as well as his arms make 

various movements. These are, as we have seen, 
impulsive at first, but later they become a source of 
great pleasure to the baby, and by the third or fourth 
month he is kicking up his legs as much as his elabo- 
rate clothing will allow. The movements become 
rhythmic and alternating, evidently an advance 
towards stepping, and by the seventh month, he will 
straighten and press his legs against an opposing sur- 
face and, if held up, begin to take steps. He also 
enjoys standing when supported. He is still, however, 
very far from independent walking, and goes through 
at least one preliminary stage, and often two or three, 
which are useful in strengthening the various muscles 
that will later be used in walking. 

When a baby is strong enough, if laid on his back, 
he will roll over onto his stomach, sometimes just for 
love of the movement, sometimes accident- 
ally in reaching for an object. Mrs. Hall's 
baby turned from side to back in the ninth week, but 
not from side to side until the middle of the seventh 
month, and Miss Shinn's niece began her career of 
rolling near the end of the sixth month, and con- 
tinued it with increasing vigor up to the eighth month, 
when creeping began. "She would now roll over and 
over in any direction, not to get anywhere in partic- 
ular, but just for the fun of the thing. She varied the 
exercise with the most lively kicking, the heels raised 
in the air and brought down together with astonishing 
vigor and zest; or with twisting about and getting on 



264 



THE CHILD 



hands and knees, or even on hands and feet, prattling 
joyously and having a beautiful time all by herself for 
as long as the authorities would leave her alone." 

Instead of rolling, some babies stumble upon hitch- 
ing. They jerk themselves along from one side to the 
other, backwards or forwards, in a most ungainly 
fashion. Where there is hitching it may precede creep- 
ing, or may take its place. Trettien gives the following 
per cents, based on returns from seventy-five boys and 
seventy-five girls, to show the usual mode of locomo- 
tion: Of the one hundred and fifty children, 60 per 
cent of them crept, 30 per cent hitched, 7 per cent 
rolled, and 3 per cent crawled, humped, made swim- 
ming movements, etc. He does not note in how many 
of these children both creeping and some other form 
of locomotion preceded walking. 

By the sixth or seventh month a baby begins to get 
up onto his hands and knees, and now and then to 
stretch or scramble for something that he 
reeping. ^^nts. Some time between the eighth and 
eleventh months he begins really to creep. Here also 
we find all sorts of odd ways. Of the babies Trettien 
watched, 6 per cent crept backward at first. Both 
Miss Shinn and Mrs. Hall record this. It is due to 
the fact that the baby's arms are stronger than his legs 
and are predisposed to push instead of to pull, so that 
until he has learned to coordinate his movements, he 
pushes himself away from the object he wants, instead 
of toward it. Much to his amazement and displeasure 
he finds it moving away instead of approaching him. 
However, he soon learns better. 

The relative movements of hands and knees are 
almost as varied as the number of these members will 



IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 265 

allow. Some babies move with the opposite hand and 

knee down at once, but just as many move like pacers, 

with the hand and knee of the same side down at once. 

A fairly large proportion use arms and hands alone, 

dragging the body and legs; and almost as many go 

on hands and feet instead of knees. Others crawl like 

snakes, with the arms close to the sides and the legs 

almost straight; and still others hump like worms, 

drawing the legs up and then stretching the arms and 

body forward. In all cases there are, of course, many 

unnecessary movements made at first that are dropped 

by degrees. 

We have already seen that even at birth the baby's 

clasp is strong enough to support him hanging, and 

that the first efforts to sit up are as a rule ^,. ^. 

. Climbing, 

preceded by pulling himself up from a lying 

to a sitting position. The muscles of arms and hands 

are relatively stronger than at any other time of life, 

and we should naturally expect from this fact a stage 

when the baby's desire to use them would be marked, 

that is, a climbing stage. Preyer, careful observer 

though he was, does not even refer to such a stage, 

although he gives a detailed account of seizing. On the 

other hand, all the accounts of learning to stand show 

how important a factor is the ability of the child to 

pull himself to an erect position, and Miss Shinn and 

others have observed and described the climbing stage. 

It seems probable that climbing is a genuine instinct, 

dating back to the time when men lived chiefly in 

trees, when strength of arm and grasp were essential 

for life. But in babies the instinct is so promptly 

repressed by fearful mothers, and so impeded by 

the baby's clothes, as is also his creeping, that the 



266 THE CHILD 

discouraged child turns to some substitute instead of 
delighting in it as Miss Shinn's niece did. Such 
repression must be a hindrance to the development of 
the child's lungs and back, and therefore must work 
direct harm to his health. It is doubtless often diffi- 
cult for the mother to give the necessary supervision 
to the climbing if it is allowed, but it can be done more 
frequently than it is, and should be planned for as far 
as possible. 

When not repressed, climbing begins at about the 
same time as creeping, and is shown in the baby's 
attempts to climb over the person holding him, to 
climb into chairs and onto beds and table, and above 
all by his insatiate desire to creep up and down stairs. 
In the mounting process there is really little danger, 
if the thing he is climbing is solid, for his grasp is very 
strong; but in descending, the baby is likely to come 
head first like any animal that goes on all fours, and 
not being properly proportioned for such a form of 
movement, he falls. If a mother can be hard-hearted 
enough to let him get a few bumps, he soon learns to 
come down backwards, and then most of his dangers 
are over. 

Although the desire to climb lessens somewhat after 
the baby has learned to walk, it is strong all through 
childhood, as is seen in the love that all children have 
for climbing trees, houses, and so on. 

Even before the baby has begun to creep, we have 
seen that he is getting exercises preparatory to walk- 
ing in his alternate kickings, in the steady 
walking ^ r u- f ^ • . • 

pressure of his feet against opposing 

objects, and in the various half-standing positions 
that he assumes when held in the lap or supported on 



IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 26? 

the rioor. He enjoys these exercises, but still he 
shows no desire to assume the erect position when left 
to himself until he has been creeping for some time. 
Mrs. Hall notes that in the thirty-eighth week, her boy 
pulled himself to his feet by the aid of a finger, and 
stood for a minute; in the forty-eighth week, he 
pulled himself to a chair and stood for five minutes, 
holding on with one hand and playing with the other, 
and two weeks later he stood so for half an hour. 
Preyer's and Miss Shinn's records correspond very 
closely with this, but all note that the baby does not 
feel very secure on his feet as yet. Demme's records 
show that vigorous children usually stand alone 
between the fortieth and forty-second weeks; moder- 
ately strong ones between the forty-fifth and forty- 
eighth weeks; and weakly ones about the twelfth 
month. Trettien says that the first standing alone 
may come at any time between the seventh and six- 
teenth months, and the first walking alone between the 
tenth month and the second year. 

By the time that the child has become accustomed to 
stand alone, he has usually been given some lessons 
in walking and has been shown how to push a chair 
ahead of him. A baby will at first support himself by 
the wall or by the furniture in going for what he 
wants, but for a long time will drop down to creep 
when he comes to an open space. He can often walk 
well when supported by one finger, and alone when he 
thinks he is supported, for some time before he will 
walk alone if he knows it. There is a fear of falling 
with most children that hinders their walking. 

Their self-consciousness is shown in very amusing 
ways. One little girl who had always held onto her 



268 THE CHILD 

mother's dress while walking, one day seized the 

scallops of her own skirt and walked bravely off, 

performing a feat closely analogous to the 

Self-con- ^ ^ . iru'K. 

sciousness a famous one of raismg oneself by one s boot- 
factor, straps. Professor Hall's daughter chanced 
to walk alone for the first time when she had a pair 
of her father's cuffs slipped over her arms, and for 
several days she could walk very well with them on, 
but would not stir a step without them. When a 
child is not being constantly urged to walk, it is not 
infrequent for him to take his first independent steps 
without knowing it, in his eagerness to get something 
that he wants. But as soon as he realizes that he is 
going alone, while he may be very proud of himself, 
he promptly falls, and may not try again for some 
days or even weeks. Then suddenly he walks alone 
again, and each day makes large gains, until in a week 
or so walking is preferred to any other mode of loco- 
motion. 

The date when walking becomes well established 
varies greatly. Preyer puts it in the sixty-eighth week 

x^T^^^^^^^^. for his son; Mrs. Hall in the sixty-sixth for 
Wnen walk- . -' 

ing is hers, and others at various times between the 

established, twelfth and thirtieth or even thirty-sixth 
months. Where there are a number of children in the 
family walking will be learned sooner, and of course a 
child can be taught to walk sooner than he will if left to 
himself. This is not a wise thing, however, unless the 
child is three or four years old, for a healthy child 
usually wants to walk as soon as his muscles and bones 
are strong enough to bear his weight. If he walks too 
soon, he is likely to be bow-legged or knock-kneed. 
If, on the other hand, a child has not learned to walk 



IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 269 

by the time he is three and a half or four years old, a 
physician should be consulted. 

It is interesting to notice that when children first 
begin to walk alone, they want some object in their 
hands as they walk. Is it partly because they derive 
some feeling of support from it, and partly because 
they feel the lack of the constant stimulation of the 
palms that they had when creeping? 

The first walk is very unsteady; not infrequently it 
is more a run, a trot or a waddle than a walk, and it is 
usually pigeon-toed. Nevertheless, undignified though 
it be, it opens to a child a new world both of vision 
and of movement. He gets new views of things when 
standing — views which are to persist through life; the 
freedom of his hands allows his handling and fingering 
of objects to go on at the same time that he is walk- 
ing; and the exercise of his legs leads to marked 
changes in the bodily development. His appetite 
increases, his hours of sleep lengthen, and his general 
health improves, especially if he is a sickly child. 
His disposition is likely to become more amiable. 

In describing these stages in locomotion we have 
proceeded as if the growth were continuous, but as a 
matter of fact it is not. Some movement 
will appear, be practised for a day or two ffowth^^^^ 
and then be neglected for several weeks or 
even months. Then suddenly it will reappear and be 
practised diligently until it is learned. Walking is 
likely to be interrupted by the beginning of speech, 
and vice versa, so that the two processes of learning 
to walk and of learning to speak, which stretch over 
several months, have periods of waxing and of waning. 
As far as I know, no careful observations have been 



270 



THE CHILD 



made to see what laws govern this periodicity of 
growth, and it is a subject which would repay investi- 
gation. 

The sexual instinct has already been discussed in a 
previous chapter, and hence will only be mentioned 
Sexual here. Its first important manifestations 

instinct. come, as we have seen, at adolescence. 

Closely connected with the instinct of sex is the 

parental instinct, which seems also to be the center of 

a large group of acts which are not com- 

Parentai monly considered instinctive. We can 

instinct. -^ 

hardly question that the care of the help- 
less young is instinctive, but we do not usually look 
upon teaching and philanthropy in all its forms as 
instinctive. What we know of social evolution, how- 
ever, seems to point to the fact that altruistic activities 
in general have been the outgrowth of the instinct to 
care for helpless children. The original instinct 
has become so covered, so varied, and so modified in 
its expressions, that it seems a misuse of terms to call 
philanthropy instinctive; and yet, within the genuine 
philanthropist there is some impelling force that can- 
not be turned aside by reasons or difficulties or even 
his own willing. He springs to relieve the suffering 
even of the most worthless as the mother springs to 
snatch her child from danger. 

From this standpoint, Mr. Phillips investigations 
as to the existence of a teaching instinct do not seem 
unreasonable. He found that girls play dolls and 
teacher far more than boys do. Out of one hundred 
and five teachers, fifty-one had desired from child- 
hood to follow that profession; seventeen wanted to 
at the age of twenty-three; twenty-four were forced 



IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 2 7 I 

to teach, but soon grew to love the work; and only 
four heartily disliked it. He concludes that teaching 
is probably a special form of the parental instinct, 
manifesting itself, as that instinct does, more strongly 
in women than in men. 

Besides the instinctive movements already described, 
on which most writers are agreed, there are numerous 
other groups of movements which one or a other pos- 
few writers class as instinctive. Among sibie 
these are the migrating instinct, which ^^^ ^^° ^' 
appears in the desire to run away that most children 
have; the hunting instinct; the burrowing instinct, 
appearing in fondness for cave-making; the swimming- 
instinct; the tent-living instinct; the collecting instinct 
or the instinct for property, etc. Most children show 
these tendencies at some time in their development, 
and it seems probable that they are genuine survivals 
of ancestral traits, but so few observations have been 
made that we cannot give a connected account of 
them. 

Another group of acts is that which centers about 
the instinctive emotions — the expressions of fear, anger, 
delight, etc. These, as being closely connected with 
gesture and language, will be discussed in the chapter 
on Language. 

Still other acts that are often classed as instinctive 
are language, play and imitation. There is little ques- 
tion that there are certain inborn tendencies in these 
cases, but the tendencies so seldom take definite chan- 
nels, as genuine instincts do, that we may question 
somewhat whether it is not confusing to class them 
with instincts. There ought to be some term which 
should indicate that these acts are neither wholly 

13 



272 



THE CHILD 



instinctive nor wholly deliberate, but have both fac- 
tors intricately woven together. 

Finally, we hear such terms as the religious instinct, 
the instinct for constructiveness, the instinct for work, 
where the feeling seems to be confused with the move- 
ments resulting from it. We are considering here only 
instinctive movements, not instinctive feelings and 
emotions. 

In the impulsive, reflex and instinctive movements 

so far described, the child has been presented as a 

member of a race only, not as an indi- 
Conclusion. . , , a 1 1 i 1 

vidual. Although there are variations in 

different children, it is still surprising how much alike 
all these movements are in all children, and at how 
nearly the same age they appear. They do indeed 
display the child's nature, as a social nature; but he is 
unconscious that he has a nature to express or that he 
is expressing it. On the physical side his energies are 
occupied in acquiring control of his senses and of the 
larger muscles of his body; and on the intellectual 
side, in the development of sensation and perception 
and the rudiments of memory, imagination and thought, 
in all of which he is repeating race-history. Never- 
theless, conscious attempts to reproduce what others 
do, and to express his own feelings and thoughts begin 
very early in imitation and in language, and manifest 
themselves in increasing force in play, drawing, music, 
and all the other forms of childish expression. 

REFERENCES 

Allin, A. Social Recapitulation. Ed. Rev., 1899, Vol. XVIII. , 

344-352. 
Bernhardt, W. Natural Impulses. Ain. Nat., 1897, Vol. XXXI., 

582-587. 



IMPULSIVE, REFLEX AND INSTINCTIVE MOVEMENTS 273 

Black, J. W. Savagery and Survivals. Pop. Sc. Mo., Vol. XLV., 

388-400. 
Brooks, W. K. Study of Inheritance. Pop. Sc. Mo., Vol. 

XLVIII., 480-491, 617-625. 
Bryan, E. B. Nascent Stages and Their Significance. Ped. 

Sem., igoo, Vol. VII., 357-396. 
Buckmann, vS. S. Babies and Monkeys. Nmeteenth Ce?it., Vol. 

XXXVI. , 727-743. 

Burk, C. F. Collecting Instinct. Ped. Sem., 1900, Vol. VII., 

179-207. 
Compayre, G. Development of the Child in Later Infa^icy, 

Chapter IV. N. Y. Appleton, $1.20. 
Darwin, C. Biographical Sketch of an Infant. Pop. Sc. Mo., 

1900, Vol. LVIL, 197-205. 
Ellis, Havelock. Analysis of the Sexual Impulse. Alien. a?td 

Neur., 1900, Vol. XXL, 247-262. 
Emmons, B. E. Humane Instincts of Children. Jour, of Ped., 

1900, Vol. XIII., 110-116. 
Groos, K. The Play of Man. See Index. N. Y. Appleton, 

$1.50. 
Hall, Mrs. W. S. First Five Hundred Days of a Child's Life. 

C. S. M., Vol. II. See Index. 
Jordan, F. Character as Seen iti Body and Parentage. 
Kline. W. L. Truancy as Related to the Migrating Instinct. 

Ped. Sein., 1897-1898, Vol. V., 381-420. 
Lindley, E. H. Some Mental Automatisms. Ped. Sein., 1897, 

Vol. v., 41-60. 
Marshall, H. R. Instinct and Reason. N. Y., Macmillan. I3.50. 
McMillan, Margaret. Early Childhood, 27-47. Syracuse. Bar- 

deen, §1.50. 
Mezes, S. G. Essential Differences between Man and Other 

Animals. Texas Acad, of Sc, 189S, 23-27. 
Mills, W., and others. Instinct. Science, N. S., 1896, Vols. III. 

and IV. 
Moore, Mrs. Kathleen Carter. Mental Development of a Child. 

Psy. Rev. Monograph Sup. No. 3. 
Morgan. C. L. Swimming Instinct. Nature, 1901, Vol. LXIV., 

208. 
Oppenheim, N. Mental Growth and Co7itrol, Chapter V. N.Y. 

Macmillan, %\.2.<^. 



274 



THE CHILD 



Phillips, D. E. Teaching Instinct. Fed. Sem., 1899, Vol. VI., 

188-245. 
Preyer, W. Senses and Will, Chapters on Impulsive, Reflex 

and Instinctiv^e Movements. N. Y. Appleton, $1.50. 
Reid, G. A. Prehensile Power of the Hands of the Human Infant. 

Lancet, 1897, p. 1077. 
Robinson, L. Primitive Child. A^. A)n. Rev., Vol. CLIX., 

467-478. 
Rowe, S. H. Physical Nature of the Child, Chapters II. and XI. 

N. Y. Macmillan, §1.00. 
Scripture, E. W. Arousal of an Instinct by Taste Only. Science, 

N. S., 1899, Vol. IX., p. 878. 
Shinn, Millicent W. Biography of a Baby. Bo.ston. Houghton, 

Mifflin, §1.50. 
Swift, E. J. Criminal Tendencies of Boyhood. Bed. Sem., 1900, 

Vol. VIII., 65-91. 
Heredity and Environment. Broc. N. E. A., 1898, 910-916; 

Am. Bhys., B^d. Rev. 1898; N. W. Mo., 189S, 36-41. 
Trettien, A. W. Creeping and Walkmg. Am. Jour, of Bsy., 

1900, Vol. XII., 1-57. 
Thomas, W. I. Gaming Instinct. Am. four, of Soc, 1901, 

Vol. VI., 750-763- 
Taylor, A. R. Sttidy of the Child, 93-105. N. Y. Appleton, 

!5i.25. 
Tracy, B. Bsychology of Childhood, Chapter on Movements. 

Boston. Heath, S0.90. 
Worthington, S. M. Inheritance of Mutilations, etc. Med. Rev., 

1897. 



CHAPTER XIV 

Growth in Control of the Body 

1. To observe the increase in control of the muscles, 
compare children two, four, eight and fourteen years 
old. Note the difference in ability to move observa- 
the fingers separately, either horizontal h' tions. 
or up and down, to stand still on tip-toe, and to thread 
a needle. 

2. Have children of different ages sort out colors, 
and note the differences in accuracy. 

3. Have them tap a finger regularly, as long as they 
can, and note the differences in regularity and in 
length of time. In all these the fourteen-year-old 
child wnll probably be little, if at all, superior to the 
eight-year-old. 

4. Notice whether the brightest children of your 
acquaintance are the quickest and the most accurate 
in their movements. 

5. Provide your children with simple tools, needles, 
etc., of their own, and encourage them to make their 
own toys, playhouses, etc., as well as articles for use 
about the house. Show them how to use the tools, 
and see that they complete whatever they begin. 

6. If you are observing one child systematically, 
give the tests mentioned in i at regular intervals, and 
take pictures if possible. 

Leaving now the exclusively physiological side of 
the subject, we shall consider how a child learns to use 

275 



276 



THE CHILD 



his body, and how much he improves from babyhood 
to youth. In many parts of our country a revival of 
Introduc- ^11 sorts of hand work is shown by classes 
tion. in lace-making, spinning and weaving, car- 

pentry, basketry, and so on. While there maybe more 
or less of the fad in this, it is nevertheless very sug- 
gestive to the sociologist and to the educator, because 
it indicates a feeling of the value of "handiness." 

Whether we look at the matter historically or logic- 
ally, we can see that in the end our civilization 
depends upon our ability to control our bodies, espe- 
cially our hands. Without such ability, neither liter- 
ature nor machinery nor any other expression of 
thought is possible, and it is still an open question 
how much the power of thought itself is dependent for 
growth upon an organ that is adaptable, like the lips and 
hands, and how far it has created the organ by use. It is 
therefore valuable to study how the baby learns to use 
that wonderful organ of the mind, his body, and espe- 
cially how both child and adult learn to use their hands. 

In order to understand why a baby makes move- 
ments of one sort and a child movements of another 
sort, we must know something about the 
conditions nervous system. The connection between 
and bodily the nervous system and the rest of the 
body is so close that for all practical pur- 
poses a man might as well not have a body as a ner- 
vous system that is seriously diseased. We see the 
truth of this especially in cases of paralysis, or of 
locomotor ataxia, but we do not often realize that the 
truth holds also for slighter degrees of disease. Wear- 
iness of any group of nerve-cells makes it difficult or 
impossible to use the muscles which those cells control. 



GROWTH IN CONTROL OF THE BODY 



11 



A person suffering from nervous exhaustion, despite 
large, well-developed muscles, cannot walk a l)lock 
without extreme fatigue. A tired woman cannot do 
fine sewing well; a tired child cannot write as well or 
speak as distinctly as when rested. 




Diagram ii. Various Human Nerve-Cells Drawn to the Same Scale and 
Magnified jcxd DiAMfeTERS. 

It is not necessary, and it would not be profitable, to 
give a detailed account of the nervous system here. 
We shall only notice that it consists of structure of 
nerve-cells and nerve-fibers; the structure the nervous 
of each is shown in Diagrams ii and 12. system. 

In general, the nerve-cells are found in the brain and 
spinal cord (the nerve-centers or central nervous sys- 
tem), and the nerve-fibers run through all parts of the 
body to and from these centers, as well as between the 



278 



THE CHILD 



various centers. One set of nerve-fibers (afferent or 
sensory) carries messages to the central cells, and 
another set (efferent or motor) takes back the direc- 
tion for a movement in response, while a third set 
(connective) connects various parts of the spinal cord 
and brain with each other. 

Each part of the spinal cord has control of certain 
muscles of the body, and the movements performed 
under its direction are called involuntary or reflex, 
because they occur without the interference of the 
will. Definite parts of the brain also have control of 
definite muscles, but the movements here take place 
with the consent of the .person and so are called volun- 
tary. Most muscles 
of the body may be» 
controlled at one 
time by the cord, 
and at another time 
by the brain. The 
arrangement of the 
nerve-fibers which 
permits this double 
control is like this: a certain nerve-fiber, say from 
the big toe, passes from the toe to the lower part 
of the spinal cord. Here it enters a nerve-cell. From 
this cell at least two fibers pass out, one going back to 
the muscles of the toe, and one up to the brain. The 
one that passes up to the brain there also enters a 
nerve-cell, which has many connections with other 
brain-cells. If the response to the stimulus is sent 
back from the spinal cord, as is usually the case in the 
ordinary sensations from walking, the act is reflex or 
involuntary. But if consciousness and will are aroused 




Diagram 12. Longitudinal (B) and Trans 
VERSE (^) Section of a Nerve-Fiber. 



GROWTH IN CONTROL OF THE BODY 



279 



by the message passing up to the brain, as when the 
toe is bruised, the act is voluntary. 

The importance of well developed cells and numer- 
ous connective fibers is apparent from this brief 
sketch. They lie at the basis of all our acts. A child 
whose nerve-cells do not grow, or in whose brain few 
fibers of connection form, will be an idiot or an 
imbecile. The work of education is to develop 
numerous fibers of connection. 

It has been well demonstrated that the nervous sys- 
tem develops in each child in approximately the same 
way that it did in the race. The lowest Development 
forms of animal life have no discoverable ofthener- 
nervous system; neither has the human ^°^^ ^y^*®°^- 
embryo in its first stages of growth. The simplest 
nervous system in animals consists of a little mass of 
nerve-cells with a few radiating nerve-fibers, and this 
is essentially the first visible nervous system in the 
human embryo. By the end of the fifth month of 
embryonic life, the number of nerve-cells is complete 
(see page 18). Thence growth proceeds in the follow- 
ing order:* 

1. Connections between neighboring centers in the 
cord. 

2. Connections between the upper and lower parts 
of the cord. 

3. Connections between the cord and the medulla 
oblongata. 

4. Connections between the hemispheres of the 
brain and the cord. This occurs just before birth. 

5. Development of fibers going to the brain centers 
that control stimuli from the arms, legs and trunk. 

*Flechsig, 



280 '^^^ CHILD 

This growth also occurs just before birth, and dur- 
I'ng the first month after birth. The special sense 
centers also develop just after birth, smell first and 
hearing last. By the end of the first month, these 
centers have all reached partial but not complete 
maturity. 

6. The connections between the various parts of the 
brain develop to a very slight extent before birth, but 
after birth grow steadily. 

The most rapid growth of the brain in sz^e is from 
birth to the ninth month. During this time, one-third 
of the total increase in weight after birth occurs; the 
second third is added between the ninth and twenty- 
seventh months. The remaining third is added much 
more slowly, the brain reaching almost its adult 
weight by the eighth or ninth year. Practically all 
the growth of the brain after this age is in the develop- 
ment of connective fibers. How long the growth of 
the fibers continues, is still a matter of dispute, but it 
seems probable that it lasts up to the age of forty or 
even later. In old age the fibers deteriorate. In 
idiots and imbeciles, the growth ceases at too early an 
age, resulting in arrested development. 

At birth a child has no power to make voluntary 
movements of any sort. When an arm or a leg moves, 
Tne baby's when his eyes close at a bright light, or 
control of when he starts at a loud sound, the move- 
Ms body, nient is a total surprise to him. something 
that he can neither prevent nor repeat. He gets, 
at the most, vague feelings, without any knowledge 
of their cause or connection with each other, or 
with other feelings, and he does not as yet know the 
difference between feelings arising from his own 



GROWTH IN CONTROL OF THE BODY 28 1 

mov^ements and those due to outside stimuli, such as 
light and sounds. 

But these vague feelings become more distinct by 
repetition, and as the connective fibers within the 
baby's brain grow, the various feelings become asso- 
ciated with one another. The eye sees the aimless 
movements of the hand, and, after many accidental 
successes, is able to guide the hand to the mouth. 
The first accidental grasping of the breast in the 
aimless groping of the hand, gives a basis of feel- 
ing for the intentional reaching when the baby is 
hungry. 

The wonderful change in a baby that usually occurs 
about the sixth month of his life is due very largely to 
his discovery that he can move himself this way or 
that as he pleases, and can direct his movements by 
his eyes. Thenceforward his time is devoted to learn- 
ing how to do what he sees others doing. Imitation 
seems to be his sole end — imitation of sounds, of facial 
expressions, of movements of all sorts. In getting 
this control, the larger muscles, those nearest the 
trunk, are always the first that obey. The baby kicks 
and practises creeping before he undertakes to walk. 
Movements of the individual fingers are very few in 
babies, and even in children finger-control is very 
imperfect. 

The constant increase in the accuracy of feeling and in 
the rapidity and correctness of bodily movement is evi- 
dent from numerous tests made upon school ,j,^^ child's 
children. In the discrimination between control of 
colors, there is a steady advance, except at ^^^^® ^^ 
adolescence. The newborn child does not distinguish 
colors or even forms, but only light and darkness. 



THE CHILD 



masses and bright places. Colors are probably not 
distinguished to any extent before the second year. 
Even kindergarten children frequently know only red, 
yellow, and blue, and do not even discriminate between 
shades of these. After six years of age girls are more 
sensitive to color than boys. Whether they are before 
that time, is a matter for future observation. 

In other experiments made to test differences in 
accuracy at different ages, the object was to find the 
changes (i) in the ability to judge slight differences in 
weight; (2) in the control over the muscles as shown 
by the rapidity in making a movement like tapping; 
(3) in the quickness in responding to a stimulus. 
Both Gilbert and Bryan found that the ability to judge 
accurately of differences in weight increased gradually 
from six to twelve years, with the most rapid increase 
between six and eight 3^ears. From twelve to fourteen 
years, the boys were poorer than before, while the 
girls were poorer from twelve to thirteen. After these 
periods, improvement went on again with both boys 
and girls. The boys were slightly more accurate than 
the girls except between seven and nine, and eleven 
and thirteen years. In all cases, the rate of increase 
in precision lessens from year to year. 

In the tests for muscular control and for rapidity of 
response, the same record was made. There seems 
always to be a certain rate of response for a given 
muscle with any one person, and the right side is, as 
we should expect, superior to the left, except with 
left-handed persons. There is found to be less differ- 
ence between the two sides of left-handed boys and 
girls, than there is between the two sides of right- 
handed persons. 



GROWTH IN CONTROL OF THE BODY o'g -^ 

There is an increase in muscular strength, as shown 
by the hand-grip, from six years up, with a fluctua- 
tion for boys at the fourteenth year, and for girls 
at the twelfth year. After this temporary 
decrease, the boys' strength increases strength:^'' 
steadily but slowly. The girls' strength, on results of 
the other hand, decreases until about the ^°^^^°^' 
sixteenth year, after which there is a slow increase. 

In general, as a child gains more control of his 
body, he becomes better able to do different things at 
the same time with the two hands. Parts like the 
fingers, that at first were moved only with other parts, 
become more independent. There is also more ability 
to combine movements into long sequences, as in mak- 
ing mud pies, or building a house, or making a doll's 
dress. Finally, increase in the economy and accuracy 
of movements shows a close adaptation of body to 
mind, and a flexibility in the use of the body that is 
very desirable. 

It must be noted again here that there is certainly 

some definite connection between periods of most 

rapid increase in muscular control and „ , ^. 

f ,. . . Relation to 

power ot discrimination, and those of height and 

most rapid growth in height and in weight, "^^eisi^t. 
The temptation is strong to connect the time of 
increase in weight with that of this increase in control 
and in discrimination. The evidence given by the fig- 
ures at hand is not, however, conclusive on this point. 
There is need for more corr elated observations.* 

* It is interesting also to notice, although no practical use of the 
fact is evident now, that at eleven boys and girls and bright 
and dull pupils are almost alike in all respects. This age seems 
to be a neutral ground, a resting place, where all child-humanity 
meets on equal terms. 



284 



THE CHILD 



In watching over the adolescent, we should not for- 
get that the period from the seventh to the ninth year 
is also an important one, showing all the fluctuations 
that adolescence does, though to a less degree. 

In the light of all these facts about development, it 
seems probable that our present school gradings are 
artificial. The natural divisions would 
Growth and sgeni to fall about the seventh or eighth 
grading. year, and the twelfth and fourteenth years 

for girls and boys respectively. Or, to 
state it more exactly, the natural divisions occur at 
the beginning of the second dentition, at which time 
there is a rapid growth of connective fibers in the 
brain; and at the beginning of adolescence, where 
there is another period of rapid growth of connective 
fibers. Previous to the second dentition, kindergarten 
methods, on a wider scale than now, seem advisable; 
that is, relatively little stress should be laid on book 
work, and more on hand work, and work which is not 
separated into distinct branches, but is closely cen- 
tered about the home and neighborhood life. 

The new interests of the period, from the second 
dentition to adolescence, can be used for the systematic 
beginnings of the various studies of the curriculum. 
With adolescence and the awakening to social life that 
comes then, school studies, especially "the human- 
ities," can be taken up with a new interest. 

In speaking of the relation between bodily growth 
and mental ability, we said that the testimony was 
very divergent. Mental ability seems to bear no rela- 
tion to weight and height except as the individual has 
been deprived of his chance to grow to his own proper 
size. But when vve consider bodily co?itrol and mental 



GROWTH IN CONTROL OF THE BODY 



285 



ability, we find all observers agreeing that the brighter 

children always have the best control of their muscles. 

We should expect this from the close 

, , . , Bodily con- 

connection between nervous health and troiand 

muscular control on one side, and ner- mental 
1 , , 111 ability, 

vous health and mental development on 

the other. The person with an undeveloped brain has 
neither mental power nor bodily control. The idiot 
and the imbecile are conspicuously lacking in both 
respects. The dropping jaw, the lifeless hand, the 
imperfect speech, are as sure indications of mental 
defect as the inability to learn. The criminal, who is 
perhaps only another sort of imbecile, in like manner 
shows a lack of muscular control. In both cases the 
most successful treatment to secure both moral refor- 
mation and mental growth is to teach bodily control, 
first of the larger muscles and then, as soon as possible, 
of the finer muscles, through all kinds of hand work. 

At this point we touch upon one of the most impor- 
tant questions in elementary education. Our prom- 
inent educators insist more and more upon 
the value of manual training in our schools, ^^^^l^^^^^ 
This includes work in wood, leather and 
brass, spinning, weaving and sewing, basketry, draw- 
ing, clay modeling, cooking; in short, everything that 
can be done by the hand. 

From the standpoint of educational theory, not all 
objects are of value in the making, but only those that 
typify certain permanent human interests and that are at 
the same time of such a material that the child's hand 
can reproduce them. Within this limitation, the 
utmost stress is laid upon the importance of children 
doing with their own hands, not for sake of teaching 



286 THE CHILG 

them trades, but because such training develops them 
mentally and morally as no mere book study can. 
It is impossible to do justice to this position in a brief 
space, but we must state its connection with the various 
facts of nervous development that have already been 
discussed. 

Three things are necessary for a strong character — 
sensitiveness, or ability to see all the sides and factors 
Essentials ^^ ^ given situation; good judgment, or 
of a strong common sense in seeing what should be 
character. (]one, and ability or strength to do the 
right thing. The second of these, good judgment, is 
the intellectual side, and its development consists par- 
ticularly in the cultivation of practical aims and worthy 
ideals. The first and the third belong to the province 
of feeling and will. 

Educationally it is much the easiest thing to get at 
a child from the intellectual side. We can easily have 
Themakinff ^^^ learn words by heart or do a certain 
of a whole kind of reasoning, entirely apart from any 

schools and colleges are now turning out every June 
mental gymnasts who cannot take any share in social 
life at first, and whose motives are too often frankly 
selfish. Our present political corruption is far more 
closely connected with our individualistic and intel- 
lectual education than we realize. But we are coming 
to believe that the most important part of education is 
that children shall learn to understand the society into 
which they are born, and work for its improvement. 

To make a whole man, a man who feels deeply and 
acts forcibly and well besides thinking logically, is 
therefore the problem of the new education. 



GROWTH IN CONTROL OF THE BODY 



287 



Now, vvc assume that there are certain permanent 
and valuable purposes or ends that are found among 
all men, but take various forms according Development 
to the surroundings of a people. Among of interest 
them are the desires for food, clothing and ^^ social life, 
shelter, and the love of music and art, at least in a 
crude form. These desires are born in each child and 
are the center from which, through his social nature, he 
works out to an interest in natural science and in other 
people and other times. The instinct of imitation 
leads him to play at house, at hunting, at dress-mak- 
ing, reproducing in miniature the life about him. 
Thence he is led to question what people did for 
clothes when they had no needles, how they killed 
animals when they had no guns, and so on. 

But, and here we connect with hand work again, 
when a child thus begins to question how a certain 
people lived or how a certain food is obtained or how 
a certain machine runs, the best understanding is 
obtained by his living the life, preparing the food, or 
making the machine; and the association fibers of the 
brain are most rapidly developed by this activity. A 
child has but a small store of memories to fall back 
upon and cannot construct in imagination with any 
accuracy such a process as weaving, even of the sim- 
plest kind. He must, at least in a crude form, go 
through the essential parts of the process himself 
before he can have the feelings and motor associa- 
tions necessary for understanding it. Still more, by 
doing it himself, he is able to enter into the feelings 
and thoughts of the weaver. By planting and raising- 
wheat, he not only understands farming better, but 
also the farmer. He is broadening his sympathies, 

19 



288 'fHE CHILD 

for the basis of all sympathy is ability to put oneself 
in another's place, and we cannot do this unless we 
have had the same experiences as he. This strong- 
plea can therefore be made for hand work in our 
schools — that it will do away with the foolish notion 
that the trades are of less worth than the professions, 
and will train children to a genuine sympathy with all 
workers, thus leveling the artificial distinctions of our 
social life and helping to solve our labor problems. 

Finally, on the side of action, only acting will 
develop the skill, accuracy and patience 
o?action°*^^ which are essential things in the attainment 
of first rank in any profession. 

From all sides it seems, therefore, that the expres- 
sion in visible form of any valuable thought is neces- 
sary for the complete understanding of the thought as 
well as for the broadening and strengthening of the feel- 
ings and of the will. Accordingly, we would make an 
earnest plea to parents and teachers to do their utmost 
to give the children in their charge every opportunity 
to express their ideas. This does not require the 
introduction of expensive outfits in cooking, manual 
training, and so on, so much as it does ingenuity in 
using the materials at hand. Wonders can be done 
with a hammer, saw and jack-knife, with an old stove 
and a few tin pans, with a doll and some pieces of 
cloth, with weeds, pliable twigs and tough grasses, 
with sand, mud and clay. All these things are at hand 
for nearly every one. The important thing is that the 
children shall become accustomed to expressing their 
ideas. 

Physically a child gets more and better control of 
his body as the association fibers develop to connect 



ers 



GROWTH IN CONTROL OF THE BODY ^^q 

various parts of the brain and cord with each other, 
and, on the other hand, constant attempts to do a cer- 
tain act develop the nervous connection 
necessary for the performance of the act. ^°^°i^«io°- 
A child who never attempted to walk or talk would 
never develop the nervous connections necessary for 
the complex combinations of muscles used in those 
acts. To a large extent, use makes the organ. 

We saw that the nervous system consists of fibers 
that carry messages to the cord and brain, cells in the 
cord and brain that receive these messages, and fibe 
that carry back responses to the muscles, the thrc, 
divisions corresponding to sensation, thought or idea- 
tion, and will. Ideation and feeling were developed 
in our savage ancestors in the attempt to maintain 
their uncertain existence, and are even in civilized 
man relatively incomplete unless carried on into 
action. Physiologically, the afferent fiber passes into 
a central cell which is connected with an efferent 
fiber, so that the tendency is alwavs for a stimulus to 
call out a motor response. Both the argument from 
evolution and that from brain development, therefore, 
unite in emphasizing again the importance of the 
expression of ideas. 

REFERENCKS.-For Bibliography see the references at the end of 
Chapter II. 



CHAPTER XV 

Imitation and Suggestion 

1. Keep a dated record of some child's imitations 
during the first year. Note: 

(i) Their character. Compare the move- 

Observa- ments with reflex and instinctive move- 

tions. 

ments. 
(2) Their relation to walking and talking. Do they 
precede these or not ? If not, is there a period of 
rest in the walking and talking when they begin ? 

2. Keep a similar record of some child between two 
and seven years old, or get observations on a number of 
children, following Miss Frear's plan as given in this 
chapter. 

3. Try Mr. Small's experiment, or a similar one. 
This is very easily done in any room where there is 
gas or a coal-stove, by pretending to smell the gas, or 
with other materials by pretending that meat is a little 
tainted, or milk a little sour, or butter a little strong. 

It often happens that the value of a theory lies no 
more in its explanation of the class of facts with refer- 
ence to which it was first stated, than in its 
evoiu"ion°^ application to quite another class. The 
theory of evolution, first systematically 
propounded as a theory that different species of ani- 
mals pass into each other by gradations, has been 
widened to the idea that all physical life exhibits a 
graded series of forms originating from one or a few 

290 



IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 



291 



simple forms; and is now being applied to mental life 
both brute and human. 

This gives us, in reality, two theories of evolution — 
one of the body, and another of the mind, and it has 
been a favorite assumption of both biologists and 
psychologists that the two series of facts run parallel, 
and have no causal relationships. They would say, 
for instance, that when you will to move your hand, 
the hand moves, not as the result of the willing, but as 
the result of certain changes in nerve and muscle which 
are entirely independent of mental processes. The 
two series of processes run beside each other, but 
never cross. 

This theory served for a brief time, as it had the 
practical advantage of averting metaphysical and 
religious discussions upon the nature of mind, but as 
the evolution idea has been worked out in more detail, 
it has become constantly more evident that there is 
some definite relation between the complexity of the 
bodily functions and structure, and the presence of 
mental activity. This can not, indeed, be proved in 
all its details; there are gaps and discrepancies here as 
in the theory of evolution itself; and yet, when we 
take a view of the course of development as shown by 
such writers as Spencer and Romanes, the conclusion 
is almost irresistible that the development of the mind 
has proceeded with equal steps and by the same laws 
as the development of the body. It is a strikingly 
simple conception that the mind has obtained its 
present modes of activity by responding to the 
demands of its environment. The animal that was able 
to retain in memory some painful or pleasurable 
experience so as to avoid or secure it again, was the 



292 



THE CHILD 



one best adapted to its surrouiuliii^s and so was the one 

that survived and passed down this form of activity to 

its descendants. Thus were developed sharpness of 

perception, imagination, attention, and thought itself, 

and developed only in response to stimuli, as the best 

preliminary to action. Mental activity, then, on this 

theory, has its origin in some want of the animal, and 

its end in some act which is supposed to satisfy that 

want. 

James says that "all consciousness is motor." To 

understand better what this quotation means, let us 

..,„ turn to the development of the nervous 

All con- I 

sciousness system. We find here, that, in general, the 
IS motor." ^^^^^ ^yj^j^ ^1^^ greatest mental activity are 

men with the best developed nervous system; and that 
this is true all the way down the scale of life. The 
animal with little or no nervous system, like the oyster, 
or the clam, has little mental activity. We find also 
that uniformly in the nervous system there is a connec- 
tion between those brain cells that receive a stimulus, 
and those that send messages out to the muscles of the 
bod^^ so that every impression received tends to call 
out some muscular response; in other words, "All con- 
sciousness is motor." Every idea, even, is reflected in 
the muscular system and so makes some change in the 
body. This is shown in a multitude of ways. 

I. Professor Mosso, an Italian, has made careful 
experiments to find out what is the effect upon the 
body of stimulations that arouse emotions, and also to 
discover the bodily changes caused by changing ideas. 
He found that when various substances were put into 
the mouth or when the skin was touched or the eye 
stimulated, there was always some corresponding 



IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 20^ 

change in the circulation and respiration. He also 
found that mental work, such as sums in mental arith- 
metic, chano-ed the character of the breathing and cir- 
culation. These changes were measured by means of 
a registering apparatus, so that the matter is proved. 
Mr. Gates of Washington, further investigating this 
point, has discovered that every emotion causes 
changes varying with their character. Thus there is 
one kind of perspiration for fear, and another for joy. 

2. Such facts as those of muscle-reading prove the 
same thing. In muscle-reading, there is always 
physical contact between subject and operator. The 
operator knows where an object is hidden w^hich he 
wishes the subject to find, and he keeps his mind fixed 
on the place where the object is. This fixing of atten- 
tion leads to involuntary contractions of the muscles 
that guide the subject toward the place, if he is sensi- 
tive enough to perceive them. 

3. The facts of hypnotism are too well-known to 
need description here. We mention hypnotism 
because its essential characteristic is that the subject is 
in some way given an idea which fills his conscious- 
ness, and therefore must be carried out into action. 
What is called the "control" of the hypnotist over the 
subject depends entirely upon how well he can fill the 
subject's mind with the ideas which he wishes him to 
act upon. 

4. There are many facts in our everyday life that 
illustrate the same thing. When there is no conflicting 
idea in our minds wx^ act upon any idea that comes 
mto it. If we see a pencil, we make marks with it; if 
a pin is on the floor, we pick it up; if we put on our 
hat, we also put on our coat and gloves, and so on. 



294 



THE CHILD 



Habitual acts come under this head; the act once 
started is finished because we have no opposing idea. 

This carrying out into action of an idea that in any 

way enters the mind, depends, we have just said, on 

the absence of conflicting ideas. This, in 
Condition of , , , , r 

imitative- turn, depends upon the number or associa- 

nessorsug- tions that one has with an idea, and the 
gestibility. . c ^^ .- c jt ^u -j 

amount or attention hxed upon the idea. 

The more the attention is fixed, the more likely is the 

idea to be carried out; and the fewer the associations, 

the less likely are opposing ideas to rise. Children 

have fewer associations than grown people, and hence 

believe everything that is told them. Their attention 

is also easily attracted. On both accounts, then, the 

tendency is for them to carry out into action at once 

anything that attracts them, and therefore children 

are more imitative than adults. 

Imitation means, in its widest sense, the copying of 
some idea received from some person or object, in the 
form in which it was received. Thus one may imitate 
the pose of a statue, the bark of a dog, the movement 
or the voice of a friend. One may also imitate 
motives as far as one knows them. 

The questions immediately before us are these: 
When does imitation rise, and when ebb? How strong 
is its power over the child? What does he imitate? 
And what use can we make educationally of this tend- 
ency? 

Imitation is now usually classed as a genuine 
instinct. It is an inborn tendency common to all 
children, but undeveloped at birth. At first, a child's 
acts are reflex and involuntary, and not until between 
the ages of four and six months does real imitation 



IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 



295 



begin. From that time to the age of seven, imitation 

is the principal means of education. This is simply 

another and more specific statement of the 

fact that all consciousness is motor. There ^^^^ °/. 

imitation. 

is some bodily change in answer to any 

stimulus, and in imitation, the body only reproduces 

in the same form the stimulus that it receives. 

Preyer remarks that the very first imitations of the 
baby are imitations of movements that he already 
knows and does without any such stimuli. In the 
case of his son, it was the pursing of the mouth, and 
occurred in the latter part of the fourth month. Miss 
Shinn notes for the same time some possible imitations 
of sounds but is dubious about their being true imita- 
tions. Even if there are genuine imitations at this 
early age, they are infrequent, and the most patient en- 
couragement of the child will not call them out except 
to a very limited extent. The connective fibers between 
the sensory and motor brain regions, which are essen- 
tial before imitation can occur, have not yet developed 
to any great extent, and do not until about the ninth 
month, at which time imitation becomes much more 
frequent. In the sixth or seventh month there are 
some clear cases of imitation, but even then they are 
relatively few, while from the ninth month on, the 
baby imitates all sorts of movements and sounds — 
combing his hair, shaving himself, sweeping and other 
household tasks. By two and a half years the child is 
into everything, imitating his elders and wanting to 
help in every way. The great development in the 
ninth month certainly has a close connection with the 
rise of creeping and language and the growth of per- 
ception, but we lack observations which would reveal 



296 



THE CHILD 



the exact order of development and the causal rela- 
tions between these processes. 

In these first imitations, the child imitates most 
readily the movements that he already performs 
reflexly or instinctively. Beckoning or waving the 
hand in "bye-bye" is one of the first imitations, and in 
the beginning is only a repetition of the natural move- 
ments of the arms. But even before such a voluntary 
imitation occurs, the child is very likely to reproduce 
unconsciously movements or sounds, such as a smile 
or a cough. Later he will also do this, but when 
asked to do it, either does it very poorly or not at all, 
and always hesitates for some seconds before he can 
get the necessary movements started. 

Imitation being well developed by the second year, 

the question is of great interest as to what the child 

imitates and how he does it, and investiga- 

whatacMid ^}qj^^ j^^^^ i^^^^ ^^^^^ ^3^ ^l^i^l^ ^he fol- 

imitates. 

lowing is Miss Frear's summary: 



3 YEARS 


7 YEARS 


5% 


10% 


10 


10 


85 


80 


35 


15 


50 


80 


65 


75 


15 


10 


70 


80 


75 


60 



What the child imitates: 

1. Animals 

2. Children 

3. Adults 

Kind of imitation: 

1 . Direct 

2. Play V . 

3. Idea 

The characteristics imitated 

1. Speech 

2. Action 

3. Action, speech and sound 



Now it is both interesting and important to notice 
that 85 and 80 per cent of the child's imitations at 
three and seven years, are of "grown folks," and this 



IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 



■97 



is still movii iniportanl when wc- add, what is not given 
in the table, that most of these are imitations of the 
teacher's actions and speech. It seems difficult to 
overestimate the influence of the teacher ox'er the child 
less than se\'en years old. After that age, imitation 
becomes less prominent because, as a child gets more 
ideas, he has more things to choose from and is more 
likely to combine them in ways of his own. 

We should notice also that by the time the child is 
three years old, the direct imitation of mox'ements and 
sounds, which is his only mode of imitation at first, 
constitutes only 35 per cent, and at seven years only 
15 per cent of his imitations, while play, w^hich allows 
change and invention, constitutes 50 to 80 per cent at 
the two ages; and imitation of ideas, which includes 
many plays, is the most important factor. This 
change from imitation of movements to imitation of 
ideas in play, is coincident with the development of 
memory and imagination that we have already 
described, and with the beginnings of questioning. 

The large proportion of imitations of movements 
marks once more the necessity so often mentioned, of 
giving children plenty of freedom for activity; while 
the numerous imitations of adult activities strong!}' 
emphasizes both the social nature of the child and the 
ease with which education can at this time introduce 
him to the work of the world in a play form. The 
more we study the children themselves the more do we 
become impressed by the fact that a grown person who 
is unsocial and lazy is one who has been warped from 
the natural order of growth. 

Imitation has been classified in various ways. P^irst 
there is the di\ision into reflex and \oluntary. In 



2g8 THE CHILD 

reflex imitation one simply copies, without reflection, 
any movement one happens to see. One child yawns, 

and then another; one coughs, then an- 
im^ution other, etc. Voluntary imitation, on the other 

hand, selects and tries to imitate the copy, 
as in copying a drawing. This division corresponds, 
in the main, to the distinction between simple and 
persistent imitation. In simple imitation, a child 
repeats some movement without modifying it in any 
respect. Usually he copies it only once, because he 
does not get interested in the act and so is not stimu- 
lated to repetition. Such imitation has little educative 
value. In persistent imitation, however, he does find 
the copy interesting and is stimulated to repeat the 
movement again and again. As a typical case of this 
sort, Baldwin gives the illustration of his little daughter 
imitating him in taking the rubber of a pencil off and 
putting it on again. She would do this for half an hour 
at a time. 

Here we must note one point which will save much 
defective teaching if kept in mind. Are the children 

doing the same thing over and over in this 
reD^eUtion repetition of the act? To us they appear to 

be, because they get the same result, but if 
we examine the acts more closely, we shall see that 
this is' not the case. The first time Helen tries to put 
the rubber on the pencil, she probably does not suc- 
ceed, although she tries very hard. She keeps on 
experimenting, making different movements with her 
fingers and the pencil, until she happens to get it on. 
Then she pulls it off and tries again; this time she suc- 
ceeds more quickly and easily, because she leaves out 
many unnecessary movements. And so each time 



IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 



299 



some movements arc omitted and better control of 
the rest is obtained until the child is satisfied and 
stops. Each time the act is somewhat different from 
what it was before, and each time the child learns 
something. The entire process of repetition is the 
best method of self-education that could be devised, 
and should not be stopped. 

The writer has been told many times that there are 
usually one or two songs or games which a child 
chooses to play ten times, where he chooses others 
once. Often we can not see why he should like that 
particular song or game so well, but it would seem that 
it must exercise certain muscles and develop certain 
organs and so give a deep satisfaction to the child 
who chooses. His choice may not always be one that 
suits the majority of the children, however, and so he 
can not always be gratified. 

This enjoyment is also due in part to the great 
enlargement of a child's range of actions. By far the 
largest part of our movements are acquired by imita- 
tion, and so when a child sees a new movement and 
begins to imitate it, he finds a new self in his body 
that he has never dreamed of before. He gets a large 
number of new and delightful feelings, and, most 
glorious of all, he finds that he can get those feelings 
as often as he pleases by simply making a certain 
movement. He becomes master of himself through 
imitation, and the delight obtained from this beginning 
of control is the direct incentive to voluntary effort 
and to voluntary attention. Imitation is the developer 
of will power. 

It is not the thing that is accomplished by the move- 
ment, but the feeling of the movement that delights 



300 



THE CHILD 



the imitative child, and so he repeats it until he 

becomes thoroughly familiar with the feeling", and then 

discards that copy. So, also, he is satisfied 

Satisfaction ^yith anv makeshifts in his imitation if only 

in movement. ,,,',-, t-i 

net result. they allow the right movements. ihuswe 

find a little girl of three years washing her 
doll's clothes without water; ironing them with a cold 
iron; and mending them without holes. Another papers 
the wall with imaginary paper and paste, using a clothes 
brush for a paste brush to help out his imagination. 

Because all the child wants is the new feelings in the 
movements, we find also that esthetic motives seem to 
have little value in deciding what children shall imi- 
tate. Repulsive things are as attractive as beautiful. 
Children imitate deformities and disease. There are 
numerous cases of children impersonating lame people, 
humpbacks, blind people, drunkards, etc., not at all in 
a spirit of mockery, but just as they imitate everything 
else. To show how strong this copy may be, we have 
in mind a case of a little girl of five years who visited 
a sick cousin. For more than a week after coming 
home, she played she was sick. She made some bread 
pills, which she took regularly, and every little while 
she would lie down, cover herself up, and act as her 
cousin had acted. It is rather difficult to know what 
to do in such cases, for we can not prevent children 
seeing such things, and we do not wish to repress 
the spirit of imitation. Can we not make the children 
realize that the humpback suffers most of the time 
because his lungs, heart, etc., are pressed out of place 
by his curved spine? And that the drunkard is himself 
wretched and the cause of wretchedness to others? 
That is, we should replace the superficial knowledge of 



IMITATION AND SUGGESTION -^Q I 

the child bv a deeper understanding and he will lose 
his desire to imitate such things. 

This leads us to another important characteristic of 
imitation; viz., its social nature. We have said that 
through imitation a child makes acquaint- 
ance with his own body and gets control of of imUaUon^ 
it; it is equally true that by imitation he 
makes acquaintance with objects and persons. When 
a child imitates the movements of another person, he 
reproduces thereby in himself the same state of mind 
in part as that of the person whom he imitates. We 
have seen in our study of the emotions, that if we 
assunie a certain position, the corresponding emotion 
is likely to come, and this is also true when the move- 
ment is imitated. Our little copyist is able to put 
himself in another's place by imitation, and at first 
only by imitation. Imitation therefore is the basis of 
sympathy as well as the developer of will and atten- 
tion, and the agency for giving us self-control. T^-uly, 
it hardly seems possible to exaggerate its importance 
in the mental development of any child. 

Therefore let a child imitate freely, and do not fear 
that he will become a slave to outside influences. 
Rather, he is laying the foundations for future origin- 
ality because he is gaining that knowledge of others 
and control of himself without which no invention is 
possible. Imitation is the germ of the adventurer's 
spirit, from which in later life will bloom discovery, 
invention and imagination. 

The transformation from imitation to originality 
comes as his improvement in his imitation increases, 
until the original movement serves only as a hint for 
starting. The factor of imitation is, no doubt, still 



302 



THE CHILD 



there, but is covered up more or less. This change 
comes, apparently, when the child has imitated until 

the act is easy, and hence requires so little 
originality attention that he can expend the mental 

energy thus set free in adorning the act, so to 
speak. Then imagination comes to the fore, and sug- 
gestion is invaluable. The place of imitation, accord- 
ingly, would seem to be in getting technique. It is a 
great advantage to a child who is drawing to see how 
to hold his pencil and how to make a clear line, and it 
certainly does not interfere with his individuality. The 
mistake that we all make lies here rather, — we insist 
upon giving him an eiid to copy that is outside him- 
self, whereas the end should be the expression of his 
own personality, and should be chosen by himself. 
At the same time, it is often true, no doubt, that a 
child does not know what he wants to do, or wants 
to do a thing that would harm him. In such cases 
suggestion must come in. 

We are very much afraid nowadays — at least many 
of us are — of destroying a child's spontaneity if he imi- 
tates much. There can be no doubt that children have 
been and are repressed far too much by school for- 
malities, book study, and so on. but free imitation has 
nothing to do with such repression. Free imitation is 
as much a part of "free play" — the watch-word of 
educational individualism — as is invention or imagina- 
tion. Once more we would emphasize the fact that 
the development of a child proceeds best when he can 
freely choose what he will do, but we would also 
emphasize the other fact of which we sometimes lose 
sight, that what a child thus freely chooses to do is 
almost invariably something that he sees going on in 



IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 



;o3 



the life about him, and that the wisest educator is the 
one who so arranges the child's surroundings that the 
things to hold his attention for imitation are those 
which will best educate him. The child who per- 
sistently does not imitate is usually the incipient 
criminal. He is the unsocial child. 

Since the child of this age is so willing to take up in 
imitation whatever the teacher may suggest, importance 
the best kinds and modes of suggestion ofsugges- 

^ r -J i.' tion. 

come up next tor our consideration. 

Suggestion is used here in the sense of any thought 
or act that may be acted upon by a person. Sugges- 
tion then takes many forms, which may be graded 
according to the degree of clearness in the idea sug- 



gested. 



At the bottom of the list Baldwin puts what he calls 
physiological suggestion. Examples of this are put- 
ting a baby to sleep by patting it, by sing- pt^ygioiogi. 
ing to it, by putting out the light, learning cal sugges- 
to lie in bed when asleep, and so on. *^°^' 

In such cases, an association is formed between a 
certain stimulus and a certain act, but the child has no 
clear idea of the act that follows, and it can not prop- 
erly be called imitative. The forming of associations 
here is, however, a very important matter, and one 
that is absolutely under the control of the one who has 
charge of the child, if the child is healthy. If a child 
is healthy, it is simply folly for its mother to accustom 
it to constant attention and coddling in order to keep 
it good humored, or to put it to sleep. Most babies at 
first will go to sleep as readily if left alone in a quiet, 
dark room as if sung to sleep by a bright light. So 
with all b(3dily habits, especially after six months. 

20 



304 



THE CHILD 



By regularly putting the child into certain positions, 
associations are formed between them and definite 
bodily reactions, and the reaction always follows. 
The extent to which this is true is shown in odd exam- 
ples. I have heard of one little girl who could not go 
to sleep unless she saw a towel with a red border put 
under her pillow, and then she would drop off at once. 
Another had to embrace a certain book on theology. 

Let us now turn our attention to other methods of 
offering suggestions and the advantages thus gained. 
Suggestion ^^^^ suggestion is strong among school 
through children is shown in the experiments made 

ideas. i^y ^^ ^ ^ gj^^lj p^g wished to see if 

he could not create real illusions by giving the children 
the right ideas. Accordingly he tested a school of five 
hundred children of all grades up to High School, in 
this way: he took into the room a bottle of perfume 
with a spray attached and also a perfumed card; he 
had two or three children come to the desk and smell 
of each. Then without the children knowing it, he 
substituted water for the perfume, and a scentless card 
for the perfumed one. He then sprayed the water into 
the room with every expression of enjoyment and was 
joined in these by practically the entire room. 
Seventy-three per cent of the children thought they 
could smell the perfume. He tried similar experi- 
ments with taste and sight, deceiving respectiv^ely 88 
per cent and 76 per cent of the children. The decep- 
tion was greater among the younger children than 
among the older. 

This tendency to accept and imitate the attitude of 
the teacher is due, as we have said, to the lack of con- 
flicting ideas in the child's mind, and therefore the 



IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 



305 



most essential thing in persuading is to prevent the 

rise of these. "y\ strong will," says Guyau, "tends 

to create a will in the same direction in „ , 

Value of 
others. What 1 see and think with suffi- strong 

cient energy, I make everybody else see and conviction. 
think. I can do this just in proportion as I believe and 
act my belief." The first essential for success in teach- 
ing, therefore, is enthusiasm and a conviction of the 
importance of the work. The next is belief in 
one's own power to succeed, for thereby one gains 
poise and the power to assert oneself calmly and 
authoritatively, both of which are necessary to the 
teacher. 

Beyond this, the teacher must make herself a model 
fit for imitation by the child. Her position of author- 
ity in the school fastens the child's atten- 

u • • .-ui r ^1 ^' ^, Importance 

tion upon her irresistibly for the time that of good 

he is with her, and imitation of her is as breeding in 

., 1 , J . , , . teacher, 

inevitable and unconscious as breathing. 

First of all she must "sit up and look pleasant." She 
must carry herself well. It goes without saying that 
her dress must be neat, but it is equally important that 
it should be tasteful. A teacher who wears ugly colors 
or bad combinations of colors, is a stumbling block 
to these little ones, in a very real sense, for she is 
training them to do the same thing. So also it is inex- 
cusable for her to use harsh, shrill tones in speaking or 
singing. She must modulate her voice so that it will 
be low and sw^eet. 

The degree to which all the physical peculiarities of 
one person are imitated by others, is greater than is 
commonly appreciated. Coughs, stammering, hys- 
terical attacks, carriage, peculiar gestures, and facial 



'>06 'T^E CHILD 

expression, all are imitated. The teacher who wears a 
worried frown soon has a frowning school. 

Less observable but more important is the effect 
upon the child of the teacher's mental and moral atti- 
vaiueof tude. Only from the standpoint of the 

belief in power of suggestion do we appreciate the 

child. £^|| iniportance of believing that a child is 

good, and of letting him know our belief. "Convince 
the child that he is capable of good and incapable of 
evil, in order to make him actually so." A child, and 
even an adult, unconsciously to a large extent, imitates 
the copy of himself that is held before him. Suppose 
a child has misbehaved in some way. With a little 
child, the chances are that his intention was not wholly 
bad, and if we assume that he was mistaken in his act 
and not willful, we can often change the intention. 
Say, "Now see how others would misunderstand you, 
though you did not really intend to do wrong," or 
"See how you have hurt him, but you did not mean 
to," and so on. The little recreant will find it harder 
not to live up to this copy than to imitate it, as a gen- 
eral rule. So generally, when the selfish or narrow 
side of a child's nature comes to the front in an act, do 
not make it definite and clear cut to his consciousness 
by talking to him about it, but rather emphasize first 
its unhappy results, and then the good results which 
rise from another way of acting. Make the child con- 
scious of the good tendencies but not the bad, unless 
he is evidently doing wrong with full consciousness 
of it. Then remonstrance and discussion are in place, 
as we have already said. 

Every movement of the teacher is a suggestion to 
the pupil. If she expects bad behavior, she calls it 



IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 



307 



out by her attitude of suspicion. Her eyes, head, 
hands, all declare her expectation, and give rise to 
ideas of mischief that otherwise would not enter the 
child's mind. In the same way, we find that children 
usually care most for the subject that the teacher 
likes. When she loves nature and the beautiful, every 
suggestion is of their attractions, and she can carry the 
the pupils over numberless obstacles by reason of 
their imitation of her enthusiasm. Her own feelings, 
with their concomitant actions, are reflected in her 
pupils. Such things are "catching/" 

We see here also why a negative suggestion is less 
valuable than a positive one. If I say "Johnny, don't 
put the beans in your nose," why is it less Negative 
^•aluable than to say "Johnny, put the suggestion 
beans in your pocket"? ^^^' 

Evidently, in the first case, Johnny's attention is 
fastened on the beans and nose, and he is at the same 
time left inactive. The natural thing is for him to 
act on the idea presented. In the second case, his 
attention is fastened on a useful idea and he is given 
something to do. The different methods of treating a 
child who gets hurt are in the same line. Why is it 
better to make light of the injury? Evidently because 
this gives the child a good copy to imitate. I have 
seen a mother work a child into a fever of crying when 
she fell down. The child picked herself up quickly 
enough, rubbed her head a little and was beginning to 
play again, when her mother rushed upon her thus: "You 
poor darling, did you fall and get hurted? Naughty, 
wicked ground to hurt my little girl!" Here she 
stamped upon and beat the ground. "Just see what a 
horrid, dirty hurt it made on my dearest's face!" The 



3o8 



THE CHILD 



child's lips began to quiver and soon she too was angry 
and crying. This particular mother is worse than any 
one I have ever known, but all of us are too likely to 
give the child something negative or bad to copy 
instead of something good. 

Another source of much trouble to a child is that we 
give him many different things to copy which do not 
agree with each other. Says Jean Paul: 
ency^^^^*" ' ^^ ^^^ secret mental fluctuations of a large 
class of fathers [and we should add teachers 
and mothers] were brought to the light of day, they 
would run somewhat after this fashion: In the first 
hour the child should be taught morality; in the 
second hour, the morality of expediency; in the third 
hour, 'Your father doesn't do that'; in the fourth 
hour, 'You are Jittle, only growji people do that'; in 
the ninth hour, 'Do not make so much noise'; in the 
tenth hour, 'A little boy ought not to sit still doing 
nothing.' " Is it surprising that with many of us 
morality is but unreasoning custom? If we do not 
live a consistent life before our children and if they do 
not find the same results following the same acts, how 
can they ever believe in a truth and justice that are 
eternal? 

If what we have been saying of the power of imitation 

and suggestion is true, we must reach the conclusion 

that our children's defects are far more due 
Conclusion. 

to the imperfect copies that we furnish 

them than to any original sin in the children, and that 

the first and most essential preparation for teaching 

and parenthood, is to make our hearts clean and our 

spirits pure. 



IMITATION AND SUGGESTION 



REFERENCES 



309 



Baldwin, J. Mark. Mental Development. Methods and 

Processes. Chapter ou Suggestion. N. Y. Macmillan, 

$2.60. 
Social and Ethical Interpretations. Section on the Imi- 
tative Person. N. Y. Macmillan, Si 75. 
Bosanquet, B. Social Automatisms and Imitation. Mind, N. S., 

1899, 167-175. (Very good criticism of Baldwin.) 
Ellwood, C. A. Theory of Imitation in Social Psychology. A?n. 

Joiir. of Sac. 1901, Vol. VI., 721-741. 
Frear, Caroline. Imitation. Fed. Sent., 1896-7, 381-386. (Works 

over into charts Russell's book on Imitation.) 
Guyau, |= M. Education a7id Heredity. Chapter on Suggestion. 

N. Y. Scribner, Si- 2 5. (Good.) 
Harris, W. T. Psychologic Eoundations of Education, 295-321. 

N. Y. Appleton, Si. 50. 
Haskell, Ellen M. Imitation in Children. Ped. Son., October, 

1894. 
Holman, Henry. Imitation in School Children. Paidologist, 

April, 1899, 24-37. 
Huntington, F. D. Unconscious Tuition. Barnard's statistics. 

Am. Jour, of Ed., 1856, No. I., 141-163. 
Imitation. Kept, of Com. of Ed., 1S96-7, 671. (Summary of 

Tarde, Baldwin, Royce, and others. Also article by Anna 

T. Smith.) 
Le Bon, G. The Crowd. N. Y. Macmillan, $1.50. (Shows 

the power of suggestion. ) 
Ledyard, Mary F. Imitation, Originality and Freedom. Proc. 

N. E. A., 1899, 547-51. 
Lukens, H. Suggestion in the Cure of Faults. A^. W. Mo., 

May. 1898, 592-5. 
Newbold. Interpretation of Automatisms. Pop. Sc. Mo., 1897. 
Noble, E. Suggestion as a Factor in Social Progress. Iftt. Jour. 

of Ethics, 1898, 214-228. (The great necessity of suggestions 

of good.) 
Preyer, W. Senses and Will. Chapter on Imitative Move- 
ments. N. Y. Appleton, Si. 50. 
Royce, J. Imitative Functions. Centtiry, Vol. XLVIII., and 

Psy. Rev., Vol. II. 



3IO 



THE CHILD 



Sidis, Boris. Psychology of Suggestion, pp. 5-90. N. Y. Apple- 
ton, $1.75. 

Small, Maurice H. Suggestibility in Children. Ped. Sem., 1896, 
Vol. VII., 176-220. 

Sudborough. What Children Imitate. N. IV. Mo., Vol. VIII., 
pp. 99, 136, 162, 226, 300, 332. 

Tuke, Hack. Diet, of Psy. Med., Imitation, Vol. VI., 676-78. 
Phil. Blakiston, $to.oo. 

Urban, W. M. Psychology of Sufficient Reason. Psy. Rev., 
July, 1897, 361-73. (Bases all knowledge upon the feeling 
of reality obtained from more or less perfect imitation.) 

Van Liew, C. C. Educational Bearings of the Principle of Imita- 
tion. N. W. Mo., Vol. VII., 320-7. 

Waldo, Bell. Imitation in Children. C. S. M., Vol. II., 75-78. 
(Principally examples.) 

Waldstein, Louis. Siibconscious Self and Its Relatiojt to Educa- 
tion and Health, 41-S0, 160-2. N. Y. Scribner, $1.25. 

Washburn, M. F. Recent Discussions of Imitation. Phil. Rev., 
1899, Vol. VIII., 101-104. (Discussion of Tarde and Bald- 
win.) 

Wundt, W. Human and Animal Psychology. Chapter on 
Hypnotism and Suggestion, pp. 328-339. N. Y. Macmillan, 
I2.60. 



CHAPTER XVI 

Language 

1. Keep a dated record of the order of development 
of vowels and consonants; of clicks, grunts observa- 
etc tions. 

2. Note when gestures begin to be used to get what 
the child wants. What gestures are used? What are 
first used? What are most frequently used? 

3. Note when the baby begins to understand speech. 
Be careful here not to confuse knowledge of the word 
with knowledge of the gestures. To be sure that the 
baby understands the word, it must be spoken without 
gestures or any unusual inflections. 

(i) When does he know his name? 

(2) The names of the people that he sees most fre- 

quently? 

(3) The names of any objects? 

4. The beginnings of speech. Keep a record of the 
first words used with meaning, spelling them as they 
are pronounced and classifying them as they are used, 
not as classified in a grammar. 

Such a record can be made for children of any age. 

5. Keep a record of the color vocabulary from the 
time when the child first names a color correctly. 

6. Keep a record of the first sentences, noting the 
order of the words. 

7. Collect accounts of words and languages invented 
by children. 

3" 



312 



THE CHILD 



One of the characteristics of man that has attracted 
much attention and been the cairse of much discussion 
Instinctive '^ ^^^ ability to use language, that is, to 
expressive communicate with others. In this, its most 
gestures. general sense, language is not limited to 
words, but also includes gesture, drawing, which 
originated in gesture and whence written language was 
derived, and any cry that has meaning, whether it be 
articulate or merely the cry of rage or pain. 

Within a week after his son's birth, Preyer noted the 
turning away of the head when the baby had sufficient 
food. This is the forerunner of the shake of the head 
in denial. In the sixth month, arm movements were 
added to this, which looked like pushing away the 
object, but they did not clearly have that purpose until 
the fifteenth month and then were probably imitated. 

In the first turning away of the head, the movement 
is expressive of the fact that the baby has had all that 
he wants, but of course he has no intention of com- 
municating with others by the movement. The move- 
ment is as instinctive as sucking itself, and is important 
here only because later it is used as a sign by which to 
express thought. 

During the first months of life there are a number of 
instinctive movements which are also expressive and 
which are the basis for later gestures and words. 
Among them are the instinctive expressions of pain, 
weariness, fear, anger, astonishment, joy, desire and 
pride. These are not all present at birth, but appear 
before the end of the first half year. 

The first tears,, which may express weariness, pain, 
fear or anger, appear between the twenty-third day 
and the twentieth week. The characteristic transverse 



LANGUAGE 



313 



wrinkling of the forehead in grief, appears early and 
also the peculiar parallelogram-shaped mouth, and put- 
ting up the lip. 

The first smile sometimes comes even in the second 
week, but is likely then to be only an impulsive 
grimace and not expressive of satisfaction. By the 
end of the first month Preyer found that it was always 
associated with comfortable conditions, and in a few 
months arm mov^ements regularly accompanied it. 
Darwin puts the first smile as late as the sev^enth week, 
and the first laugh in the seventeenth week. Preyer 
puts the first laugh at nearly the same date as the first 
smile. The laugh also is later accompanied by arm 
movements. It became much more noticeable in his 
son in the eighth month, and then was at times imi- 
tative. Laughter passing into tears, he never observed 
in children less than four years old. 

The characteristic look of astonishment appeared in 
Miss Shinn's niece in the sixth week, on tasting some 
new food. This also is hereditary, and one of its 
important factors, the horizontal wrinkles of the fore- 
head with wider opening of the eyes, is traced back by 
Darwin to the attempt to see better the object causing 
the surprise. 

Fits of rage or anger, with stiffening of the body, 
and striking out and kicking, appeared as early as the 
tenth month in Preyer's boy. 

Desire is very early shown in the cry, and to this is 
added, about the fourth month, stretching out of the 
arms to the thing wanted; and still later, the putting 
of the hands together as if to grasp the object. 
Between the eighth and twelfth months, pointing is 
gradually developed from this. 



THE CHILD 



Expressions of affection, such as kisses, pats and 
hugs, are imitated, and do not appear until about the 
sixth month, at which time also a real gesture language 
is likely to begin. 

Gesture, or the sign language, is common to all men 
and is used by animals almost as much as the inarticu- 
late cry. It seems to be of almost as wide 
^^^tur^^^^ application as the cry. The dog's entire 
body is unconsciously eloquent of his mood, 
and even consciously he makes a limited use of ges- 
tures in trying to attract attention or to persuade man 
to do his wish. When we come to man, we find that 
the natural sign language is strikingly similar in all 
parts of the earth. An Indian can make himself 
understood anywhere that the sign language is com- 
monly used. Deaf mutes, who have not been taught 
the conventional sign language, and Indians understand 
each other without difficulty. 

We can hardly question that gesture, aided by a few 
half-articulate cries, was the first language, and for a 
long time was more prominent than speech in men's 
communications. So we should expect to find, as we 
do, that in each baby's development, gestures come to 
have significance before words do. 

At about the same time that imitation begins, sig- 
nificant gestures arise. The six-months-old child tugs 
at his mother's dress when he is hungry, holds out his 
arms to be taken up, and learns to wave "bye-bye" and 
go through the various baby tricks. A little later he 
begins to invent gestures. All kinds of begging and 
coaxing gestures, attempts to attract attention, appear. 

The use of nodding to mean yes is not seen until 
between the twelfth and fifteenth months, and is 



LANGUAGE 



315 



probably not hereditary as shaking the head is, 
although Miss Lombroso so classes it. It does not 
appear until long after shaking the head does, and is 
procably imitative. 

In this use of gestures, the baby is at one with 
primitive man, uncivilized peoples of to-day, deaf 
mutes, and aphasic patients. There seem 
to be certain common or root gestures Gestures the 

u- u n u u u 1 primitive 

which all men who have no speech or only language 

imperfect speech, use in expressing their 
thoughts, and it seems as though reference to this nat- 
ural language might settle some of the disputes as to 
the appropriate gestures in discourse. 

On the other hand, there are variations from these 
common roots according to the nationality and ration- 
ality of the person, just as there seem to be variations 
even in the instinctive expressions of emotion, so that 
we can not press too far the theory of a universal sign- 
language. Savages and children use many more ges- 
tures than adults of civilized races, and more pro- 
nounced inflections. It is related of some savage tribes 
that they can hardly understand each other in the 
dark. 

Such language is much more closely confined to the 
concrete than are words. The gesture is essentially a 
reproduction of the object or action, and does not 
lend itself readily to the representation of class-ideas 
or trains of reasoning. Uninstructed deaf-mutes, it is 
claimed, have no ideas of the supernatural, and only 
the lowest abstract ideas. The entire system of ges- 
ture, while pleasing and universal, soon reaches its 
limit of development and must give way to a system 
that has greater mobility and power of adaptation. 



3i6 



THE CHILD 



It is supposed that there is some connection between 

the sign-language and the spoken word, but we have 

r.^« +•« no exact knowledge of what it is. The 
Connection ^^ 

ofgesture brain centers for control of speech and of 

with words, ^j^^ ^.j^j^j. ^^^^ ^^.^ ^j^^^ ^^ ^^^^ other, and 

presumably the exercise of either would stimulate the 
other through diffusion of the nervous excitement. 

Considering language merely as a means of com- 
munication, there would seem to be nothing marvelous 
in the fact that the word has come to be its 

speech and \Yi[Q^ form. It is simply a case of the sur- 
the cry. ^ ■' 

vival of the fittest. Not only are the lips, 

tongue, etc., more mobile than other muscles, and so 
better adapted for expressing slight differences of 
sound and thus for indicating many objects with com- 
paratively small effort; but their use leaves the hands 
free to do other work at the same time that talk is 
going on. It would seem inevitable therefore, that the 
word should become the especial means of communi- 
cation as the demand for communication grew, though 
at first it was carried on merely by inarticulate cries 
and gestures. 

Cries and gestures seem to be to a large extent com- 
mon to all men, and also to men and animals. The 
cry of rage is easily distinguished from that of pleas- 
ure; the cry of fear from that of attack. When we go 
beyond these, however, we approach speech. Buck- 
man is authority for the statement that fowls have 
twelve or more different cries by which they warn and 
guide each other; cats, six; rooks, six, and monkeys 
two hundred or more, almost a language itself. We 
find also that many animals can learn to understand us, 
no gesture or peculiar inflection being used. Romanes 



LANGUAGE 



317 



quotes the case of a chimpanzee who would follow her 
master's directions into minute details about sticking 
a straw into the meshes of her cage. Dogs also learn 
to follow directions, and even to read words and fig- 
ures. It is related of one of Scott's dogs that the 
servants used to trick him by saying in his presence 
that the master ^ovXA come home over the hill. The 
dog would at once go the route indicated, never by 
any chance taking the other path. There seems to be 
no intrinsic reason for doubting the possibility of such 
things. This does not, of course, mean that animals 
can reason. 

In all such cases it is difficult to separate tone and 
inflection from the mere sound of the word. The 
former are the more primitive. Most animals obey 
the tone rather than the word. Idiots who can not 
learn to speak or understand words, can be taught 
some things by tone and gesture. This, perhaps, is 
one reason why music— mere tone — has such a univer- 
sal hold. 

From these rudimentary cries which man possesses 
in common with animals, some philologists believe 
that human speech has developed through Development 
refinement of the articulation. The reflex ofhuman 
cry of emotion, the voluntary cry of warn- ^p®®*^^- 
ing or threat, and the imitation of some sounds, 
thinks LeFevre, furnish the elements of language. 
Of these elements animals possessed the first as well 
as man, but man, with a more developed brain, 
distinguished and used more words, through changes 
in intonation and in sounds. Other philologists lay 
more stress upon the influence of sex in developing 
language; while still others believe that man speaks 



^15 THE CHILD 

primarily because his lips and longue are more mobile 
than those of animals. 

Whichever factor may have been the leading one in 
the race-origin of language, we can see that in the 
baby's speech they all play some part. 

It is indubitable that man now has a certain instinct 
to speak— ?>., to communicate by sounds — though 
not to speak any given language. It seems that a 
French child brought up in an English family or vice 
versa, learns the adopted tongue as readily as the 
natives do. How far the development of language 
would go if children were left entirely alone is an inter- 
esting but unsettled point. The cases of shipwrecked 
children are unsatisfactory, because such children have 
had no companions and so no incentive to invent a 
language. Herodotus tells us that King Psammetichus 
of Egypt had two newborn children shut up so that 
they saw no men until two years old. At that age 
when brought into the presence of others, they said 
"beccos," which in Phrygian means bread. Psam- 
metichus thereupon proclaimed the Phrygians the most 
ancient people. Long before a child imitates, however, 
he babbles, and the sounds that he thus instinctively 
makes are his unconscious preparation for later speech. 

The child enters life with a cry, which has been the 
subject of much discussion. Some claim that it is a 
celestial cry — apparently a reminiscence of 
cries ^^ the angel's song. So noted a man as Kant 

asserts that it is a cry of wrath at being 
introduced to the hard conditions of this life. But we 
will satisfy ourselves with the notion that it is simply 
a cry of pain when the cold air rushes into the lungs 
and automatically expands them. 



LANGUAGE 



3^9 



The first cries are instinctive and to the child's own 
mind are not expressive, although they usually indicate 
bodily conditions, such as hunger or pain or pleasure. 
Preyer notes the wail of hunger, the sharper loud cry 
of anger, the crow of delight, the monotonous cry of 
sleepiness, and the short, high-pitched yell of pain. 
These are instinctive at first and are not intended to 
tell others what his condition is. 

The child cries at a bright light or a bitter taste, and 
later at a loud sound, because there are certain arrange- 
ments of nerve cells at birth that necessitate this 
response. During the first month of life, the sounds 
that the child makes are for the most part vowels. 
A, 00, A, are the favorite ones, and there are varia- 
tions of these and others which adults find it difficult 
to describe. These sounds are also frequently given 
on an inspiration and expiration, making two-syllabled 
combinations like agoo. 

The first consonant put with them is an indistinct 
guttural or nasal, g or ?igd, as Miss Shinn gives it. 
These syllables are repeated by the baby again and 
again, making reduplications, for which he has a fond- 
ness for some time after real speech has begun. Sav- 
age races show the same fondness. 

Wallace and Johnston have also attempted to show 
that the order of development in baby speech from 
vowels to semi-vowels, nasals and consonants, paral- 
lels the development of human speech. 

The first consonants that appear are m, p, d, I and k. 

The first sound not a vowel, was heard by Preyer on 

the forty-third day; the first ma, on the sixty-fourth 

day. On these facts Buckman has based an ingenious 

theory as to the origin of language. The combination 
21 



320 



THE CHILD 



ma-ma-ma is usually the first. Vierordt states that 
generally the vowel in the crow of pleasure is a ; of 
pain, a. The latter very naturally, says 
consonants. Buckman, although purely reflex at the 
start, is used when the child is hungry or 
in pain, and becomes a way of calling for his mother, 
who relieves hunger and pain. Hence it becomes her 
name, ''mama,,'' and this root is found in Sanskrit, 
Greek, and Latin, as well as in our modern languages. 

So again, pa or da, resulting in "papa" or "dada" is 
a natural cry when the child is not as violently agitated 
as by hunger, and becomes attached to the father. 
This root also is found in Sanskrit, Greek and Latin. 
Kah, on the other hand, is used to express strong dis- 
gust, as when the child tries to eject disgusting food. 
It is made by lifting the lips from the teeth, opening 
the mouth and almost coughing, the same instinctive 
expressions that animals employ. From it come the 
Greek KaKo? (bad), KaKK-rj (excrement), Latin, caco, and 
similar words. 

The la sound, on the other hand, is given in content- 
ment, or pleasure, and gives rise to the Greek AaAcw, 
to chatter, and the English lullaby. 

From these instinctive utterances language first 
arose, thinks Buckman, constantly growing in fineness 
until the marvelous complexity that we now use was 
attained. Taine and Darwin bear out these remarks as 
to the first sounds. With Taine' s daughter m^ was 
first given; kraim to express disgust, and pa a little 
later. 

Miss Shinn's records agree with these as to "mama." 
"Dada" was also one of the first words, and signified 
pointing out, seeing, exulting, admiring. "Nana" 



LANGUAGE -^2 1 

was a wail of protest and refusal. Two other words, 
"Kraa" and "ng-gng" or "mgm" were used very early 
but were imitations of words given to her to express 
disgust, and disappearance. 

The first exercise of the organs is not expressive of 
any meaning. The baby enjoys exercising his throat, 
tongue and lips and so keeps it up for hours at a time. 
It is an excellent training for the later speech, for, 
although he can as yet imitate no sounds, he makes all 
the sounds and gets flexibility and strength of the 
vocal organs and lungs. Deaf-mutes, who make few 
sounds as compared with normal children, are unusually 
subject to throat and lung diseases. 

The exact order in which the various sounds appear 
must vary, although in the main the same, because the 
shape of the mouth and the other vocal order of 
org^ans differs and the child pronounces first sounds and 
the easiest vowels and consonants. It is also ^^ ^ ®^' 
noticeable that Preyer says that during the first year of 
life the child pronounces all the vowels, even those 
which later on he has to learn over again. We have 
here a fact similar to what we have already noticed in 
imitation, where the child involuntarily does easily 
and well what he does slowly and imperfectly when 
the action is voluntary. 

Among the sounds made at this early stage are all 
sorts of gutturals and "clicks," which adults find it 
difficult to speak and which correspond closely to 
Arabic and Hebrew gutturals and savage "clicks." 

The order for the appearance of the letters, as given 
by Tracy, is as follows, beginning with the most diffi- 
cult: r, /, ///, v, sli, y, g, ell, s, e, f, t, n, q, d, k, o, w, a, 
h, m, p, b. 



322 



THE CHILD 



Sully puts all mistakes in pronunciation under the 
following heads: 

1. Simplifications. 

(i) A child naturally drops letters and syllables 

that are hard for him, especially if they are at the 

end of the word, and the inflection and 
Mispronun- , , i i i i a r i 

elation. rhythm are not altered thereby. At hrst he 

seems to understand only the vowel sounds 
in what is said to him, and in imitating a sound will 
get only the vowel and inflection, with a vague sur- 
rounding of indistinct consonants. Preyer's boy would 
respond in the same way to "Wie gross?" "gross," 
and "o'ss." Again, in trying to say "Putting my arms 
over my head," little Ruth would get, "ti i i a owy i 
ead,' ' with hardly a distinct consonant in it, but a ludi- 
crously faithful reproduction of my own tones. 

In this dropping of syllables dance becomes "da"; 
ca?idle, "ka" ; handkercliicf, "hanky," "hankish," or 
"hamfish," and so on. 

(2). The accented syllable naturally is always the one 
kept, whether it is at the beginning, middle or end of 
the word, for we speak it with more stress and voice, 
and it must attract the baby's notice more than the 
others. 

2. Change of letters > 

(i) Vowels are not omitted but are often changed. 

(2) Consonants are not always dropped, but others 
may be substituted for them when they are difficult. 
In such cases the preceding or succeeding sound deter- 
mines what shall be put in, giving a duplication. 
Thus "cawkee," coffee; "kork," fork; "hawhy," 
horsie ; "laly," lady. In other cases / and s are 
dropped and others substituted: "feepy," sleepy. Where 



LANGUAGE 



323 



/ and r arc replaced, almost any substitute may be 
used, but 7t' is a favorite. 

(3) The consonants may be interchanged: "tsar," 
star; '' psoon, " spoo?i; "hwgohur ," s?i£-ar; "aks," ^^>^/ 
"lots it," lost it. 

With all these natural difficulties in speaking 
correctly, it seems a pity to add further mispronun- 
ciations by his elders, in the form of baby- - 
.11 T3 i^ ^ 11 • r r ^ • Baby-talk. 

talk. Baby-talk is one form of endearing 

terms, but surely the English language has a vocab- 
ulary of such words that is far better than the 
usual run of baby words. We hinder the child's 
speech by limiting ourselves to him. We should 
rather encourage him to use our words, especially 
as the vocal organs grow less flexible as they be- 
come more used to certain combinations of sounds, 
and so an incorrect pronunciation may become habitual. 
An older form of baby-talk is found in many school- 
books in the names given to flowers, animals, geomet- 
rical figures and so on. As a matter of fact children 
learn the correct names as easily as they do the silly, 
sentimental ones, and do not need to unlearn them 
later and get the proper ones. 

So far we have discussed only the making of articu- 
late sounds. We have not yet reached language. For 

language we must have not only a perfect 

1 J ^-^ ^ u . -J Rise of true 

vocal and auditory apparatus, but ideas, speech. 

and desire to express them. During the 

first six months the child seems to lack these, although 

Darwin noticed in his boy different cries for hunger 

and pain at the age of eleven weeks and an incipient 

laugh in the sixteenth week. But it may be questioned 

whether these were not entirely involuntary and 



324 



THE CHILD 



reflex. In the second six months, however, persistent 
imitation of sound and gesture arises. The child 
voluntarily uses different cries and gestures for differ- 
ent things, although his vocabulary of spoken words is 
very small, or may indeed be nil, as in the case of 
Taine's child. 

Feldman on comparing children found that the first 
word varied as follows: 

Month: 14 15 16 17 18 19 

No. of childien: i 8 19 3 i i 
These children first walked alone: 

Month: 8-9 10 11-12 

No. of children: 3 24 6 

From this it appears that children walk before they 
talk, and we may add that they understand before they 
walk. 

When the child is learning to walk he acquires no 

more speech and may even go backward, but after that 

the learning and understanding of words is 

vocabuilry. ^^^^ ^^P^*^" ^ ^^^'^ understands many 
words before he speaks, even as early as 
eight months. Striimpell's daughter enjoyed little 
stories told her in her thirteenth month, though her 
own speech was very imperfect. Another child of 
eight months knew by name all the persons in the 
house, the parts of her body, and most of the objects 
in the room, and understood simple sentences. 

It should be said here that children may differ within 
wide limits as to the time when they begin to speak, 
and still not be abnormal. Many authorities state that 
if a child does not speak by the age of five, he may be 
considered abnormal, but not until then. Perez, 
indeed, says that "The more intelligent a child is, the 



LANGUAGE 



325 



less he uses words, and the more necessary it is to him 
that words should signify something to him, if he is to 
learn them; and this is why he only learns words in 
proportion as he gains ideas about objects." By the 
end of the third six months he may use not only many 
single words, but even short sentences, and words of 
his own invention. This latter fact is interesting the- 
oretically from its connection with the possible origin 
of language. 

The character of the first vocabulary is shown in the 
following comparative table, which is given in per cents: 





2 







pq 

Di 

W 
> 


Q 


> 

< 


Ui 










Dewey. 

I girl, 18 mos. 
I boy, 19 " 


53 
60 


6 



28 
21 


I 
II 


6 

3 






I 



6 

5 


144 
115 


Tracv. 

12 children, 19 
to 30 mos. 


60 


2 


20 


9 


5 


2 


.3 


1-7 


5400 


Salisbury. 
I girl, 33 mos. 

I •' 5^2 yrs. 


54.5 
57 


3-7 

I 


23 
20* 


9.6 
17* 


5 
2 


3 

I 


.006 
.003 


.006 
.0009 


642 

1528 


Wolff. 
Boy's Dic- 
tionary* 


42 





30 


8 


10 


4 






215 


Kirkpatrick. 

Per cents of 

words in 

English 

language . . 


60 




II 


22 


5.5 











These lists, as Dewey remarks, classify the words 
according to their meaning for adults, an artificial 
method for two reasons. At first one word stands for 
a sentence in childish speech. "Water" — I want 

* This dictionary was made by a boy before his seventh year. 
It does not, of course, give his entire vocabulary, but only words 
that for any reason he wished to define. 



326 



THE CHILD 



zvater. "All gone" — The flozver has disappeared, etc. 
Furthermore, the child, like the savage, uses one word 
for many parts of speech. "The hurt blooded." "It 
ups its false feet." "Can I be sorried?" etc. A care- 
fully-made vocabulary would classify each word 
according to the child's use of it, and so such classifi- 
cations as these given here are but rough and ready 
tests. Even so, however, they are suggestive of 
characteristic differences between the child and the 
man. 

The idea of action is very prominent in all the first 
language. Even with this artificial classification, the 
percentage of verbs is twice as large in childish as in 
adult speech, and less than i per cent of the nouns are 
abstract. Here again we find the parallel between the 
child and the race. The more primitive a language, 
the larger the proportion of verbs, and it is very 
probable that the first sentences consisted of but one 
word. An interesting bit of evidence to show how 
recently the different parts of speech have assumed 
clearness in man's mind, is the fact that the ancient 
Greeks in writing ran all the words of a sentence 
together. 

Children vary greatly in the age at which they learn 
to name colors, as well as in the ability to distinguish 
the colors. Preyer's child at twenty months 
vocabulary knew no color names; twenty-five others 
knew red and green; thirty-four, yellow, 
brown, red, violet and black. The colors are named 
correctly in the following order: white, black, red, 
blue, yellow, green, pink, orange, violet. The girls 
show greater ability in this direction, a girl of eight 
comparing with a boy of sixteen. 



LANGUAGE 



327 



The number of different words used by different 

children has been very differently estimated. Some of 

the differences are due to the fact that some 

writers put different forms of one word flf^Jf^o^ 
^ . vocabulary. 

^•^•' S^^ S^'^'^^S ^^d gone, as one word, while 
others consider them as different words. In the fol- 
lowing list, taken from Tracy, and in the preceding 
list, inflections of a word are not counted as separate 
words. 



Sex 








Rr,vc 
















n.DT C 












vjirv.1.0 


Age in mos.... 
No. Words 


9 
9 


12 

10 


12 

8 


15 12 19 

4 144 


24 
139 


24 

2~85 


28 
^7 


30 
327 


35 


21 

177 


22 


22 
69 


23 24 
136 36 


24 25 27 28 
263 250 171 451 



Preyer found that nine children (eight girls and one 
boy) at two years had vocabularies ranging from 173 to 
1 121 words. Thus there seems to be a wide range in 
the number of words possible at any given age, and we 
do not yet know what connection there is between them 
and the child's general development and intelligence. 

It happens also that children living under ordinary 
conditions sometimes invent words and even lan- 
guages. The languages we shall mention 
later. The words seem, in some cases, not 
to be the result of imitation, but strictly 
original. Among such cases are "memby," food; 
"afta," drinking; "gollah," rolBig tlmigs ; "tonies," 
children; "diddle-iddle, " /^^/^; "wusky," 5^^7. 

One child described by Mr. Hale invented names in 
which the vowels denoted the size of the object as they 
were higher or lower; e.g., "lakail," an ordinary chair ; 
"lukull," great arm-chair; and "likill," little doll's 
chair; "mem," watch or plate; "mum," large dish; 



Invention of 
words. 



328 



THE CHILD 



"mim," moon; and "mim-mim," stars. Deaf-mutes 
invent a few words usually, and some invent many. 
Words for food and drink are the most common. 

Besides the invention of words, children usually 
form some words through the imitation of sounds or 
onomatopoeia, as Miss Shinn's niece imitated the 
mewing of a cat and later used the sound for the cat's 
name. In this respect as well as in the invention of 
words, the natural tendency is repressed by the fact 
that children have the adult language before them to 
imitate and so are saved the trouble of inventing a 
new one. 

Nevertheless, the tendencies which do crop out are 
of great interest to the philologist, because the words 
which children form either through invention or imita- 
tion show curious resemblances to primitive tongues 
and offer suggestions as to the origin and development 
of language. For instance, Mr. Hale and various 
other authorities who have studied the words and lan- 
guages invented by children, believe that in this tend- 
ency to invent is seen the cause of the origin of diverse 
languages. "Each linguistic stock must have orig- 
inated in a single household. There was an Aryan 
family-pair, a Semitic family-pair, an Algonkin family- 
pair. And further, it is clear that the members of each 
family-pair began to speak together in childhood." 

The age at which the first sentence is spoken will 
vary as much as all other stages of language develop- 
ment. To quote Preyer again, his son 
sentence spoke the first sentence near the end of the 

twenty-third month. The memorable utter- 
ance was "Heim mune," which, being translated is, 
"Home, milk." Striimpell's daughter, however, spoke 



LANGUAGE 



329 



her first word in the tenth month and used sentences 
as early as the seventeenth month. 

The first sentences after the sentence-words already 
mentioned, commonly consist of a noun and adverb or 
adjective, or two nouns with a verb understood. "Big 
bird," "Papa, cracker, milk," etc. The verb makes 
its appearance, says Sully, as an imperative first. The 
order of the words varies, sometimes subject and some- 
times predicate being put first. Apparently imitation 
has little effect when an English child w^ill utter a 
sentence like this: "Out pull baby spectacles." I 
suppose that the order depends upon the idea which is 
most prominent in the child's mind, that being put 
first, as with adults sometimes, for the sake of 
emphasis. Children as a rule seem to have trouble in 
putting "not" in the right place; and they also bring 
out their meaning by making two opposing state- 
ments — "This not a nasty wow wow; this a nice wow 
wow." This uncertainty of order is also paralleled in 
primitive languages. 

We all know the wonderful things a child does, when 
he tries to use inflections, in his attempt to make the 
language consistent with itself. Of course 
irregular verbs are made regular, plurals inflections 
are all formed alike and so on, but he caps 
the climax in his use of the verb be. As Sully says, it 
is asking too much of a child to expect him to say 
"Yes, I am'' when asked, "Are you good now?" and 
we can sympathize with the little girl who, after much 
drill from her mother, when asked if she was going 
out said, "I'm are." If a child is asked, "Will you 
be good?" why should he not say, "I be good"; or, if 
that event occurred yesterday. "I bed good"? "Am't 



330 



THE CHILD 



I?" is surely as logical as "Isn't he?" We find also an 
impromptu making of verbs that is delightful. "Bet- 
tern't you do it?" says the little fellow. 

"I" and "you" are stumbling blocks also. At first 
the child speaks of himself by name, and is likely to 
think "I" and "you" names like any other. So he 
will say, "What am I going to do?" for "What are you 
going to do?" The constant change from one to the 
other, according to which person is speaking, is most 
puzzling, and yet Tracy says the child has learned the 
meaning by twenty-four months. Others assign dates 
from sixteen to thirty months, a wide variation. This 
is, of course, a gradual process. The child will use the 
terms correctly, and then drop them for the time, to 
resume them later. The free use of them is com- 
monly taken to signify more sense of the child's own 
personality than before. The development of speech 
is effectively summarized in the chart found on the fol- 
lowing page. 

This first learning of the mother tongue is fairly com- 
plete by the fifth year, but between eight and fifteen 
years there is usually a revival of interest, 

fanguages. '^^^^ ^^ ^^^" ^^ ^^^ secret languages of chil- 
dren, which are found wherever children 
are together. There are many kinds of secret language, 
varying from the easy "hog Latin," which only adds 
"gry" to every word, to a very complex and inflected 
language. Frequently such a language lasts for fifty 
or sixty years, and is passed down from one genera- 
tion of children to the next. In other cases the lan- 
guage is invented in whole or in parts, and even a 
dictionary may be made, to which new words are added 
from time to time, 



LANGUAGE 



OJ 




33^ 



THE CHILD 



The length of time such a language is used varies 
greatly. In some cases the interest lasts only a few 
weeks; in others ten or twelve years. Two children 
who invented their tongue used it so constantly that 
their parents made every effort to dissuade them from 
it, but in vain. After two years, however, they 
gradually began to use English. In another case a 
man records that he has spoken his secret language to 
himself for fifty years. That is, he thinks in it, and 
when he speaks or writes translates into English. The 
motive for using the language is, as a rule, the desire 
for secrecy. The older children begin to employ 
it to keep secrets from those not in their clique; 
another language is used in another clique, and so 
on. The language is used in writing notes in school, 
and on all occasions where mystery and secrecy are 
desirable. 

The hearing and speaking of words comes before 

reading; and the brain centers employed in hearing 

and speaking are the first developed and 

speech and ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^.^^i established. Lukens con- 
reading. -' 

eludes from this that a child should at first 

be allowed to read out loud, and later to himself. 
Children learning to read whisper the word to them- 
selves. 

After the child by his instinctive babblings and per- 
sistent imitation has learned to speak words, he learns 
to use them with a significance from con- 
and^uu)?iit stantly hearing one word used in connec- 
tion with a given object. In so far as the 
same word is used for different objects or situations, he 
is left helplessly struggling for the common meaning 
hidden beneath all this diversity; and again when 



LANGUAGE 



333 



different words are used with the same meaning, as in 
the various forms of be, he is led astray into seeking 
differences where none exist. 

Hence comes the value of language as an aid in the 
development of concepts, and as a revealer to us of 
their growth in the child's mind. At first he uses 
words in altogether too wide a sense. "Mamma," 
"bath," "wow-wow," are applied not only to the par- 
ticular objects he knows, but to all that in any degree 
resemble them. The child does not see differences 
distinctly enough to mark off individuals unless there 
is some striking characteristic to aid him. He rather 
associates the word with the whole situation in which 
it is used, and oftentimes with all the details of it. 
Thus, Romanes gives the case of a child who saw a 
duck on the water, and called it "quack." After that 
he called all birds and insects "quack" and also all 
liquids. Still later, he saw an eagle on a piece of 
money and called it "quack" again. Lindner's 
daughter when asking for an apple, was taught to say 
"apple," and thereafter used the word as meaning eat. 
Another child used the word "ta-ta" to say good-by; 
then when anything was taken away; then for the 
blowing out of a light. Still another used "hat" for 
anything put on his head, including a brush and comb. 
Dipping bread in gravy is called a "bath." The 
palate is the "teeth roof"; the road is the "go"; the 
star is the "eye"; all metals are "keys," etc. 

In all such cases we notice that the child is trying 
to classify, and must use what he already has in the 
way of words to aid him. So also with relations — 
a much more difficult thing, and one in which a child 
is likely to get confused. A child will have a vague 



334 



THE CHILD 



idea of quantity, but can not at first express or under- 
stand too much and too little, too big and too small, etc. 
He may get them in one situation, but when the same 

object that is too big for one thing is too 
relatio?^^ small for another, it is beyond him. Here 

is the root of his trouble with "I" and 
"you." It is not surprising that little George thought 
"the Doctor came and shook his (Willie's) head and 
gave him nasty physic, too." "Buy" and "sell,/' 
"lend" and "borrow," "teach" and "learn," are thus 
all pitfalls for him, and at first are confused. Here 
again we can trace the race parallel. Many people 
use "learn" for "teach" and we apply "pleasant," 
"sore," etc., both to our feelings and the object that 
causes them. Our abstract words also bear unmistak- 
able marks of their concrete origin. "Spirit" is 
"breath"; "wrong" is "awry," "twisted," or "bitter"; 
"right" is "straight," and so on through the list. 

In his hasty generalizing the child makes many mis- 
takes in his conclusions, and so a process of limiting 

or correcting old concepts and of more 
fimitation carefully forming new ones begins. A 

good example of such limitation is given 
by Darwin. His son called food "mum," sugar 
was "shu mum," and licorice, "black shu mum." Such 
words as "teeth roof" for palate, "eye curtain" for 
eyelid, "tell wind" for weather-vane, show both 
generalization and limitation. On the other hand, of 
course, if the child's experience of a word is too nar- 
row, he will make ludicrous mistakes in over-limita- 
tion. Thus one boy said that the good Samaritan 
poured paraffin into the wounds of the sick man. Oil 
meant only paraffin to him. The child who entreated 



LANGUAGE 



335 



his mother to "buy him a brother while they were 
cheap at the show because children were half-price," 
labored under a similar difficulty. Perhaps also the 
strict insistence of little children on exactly the same 
words in retelling a story shows their feeling of a 
strangeness with words. When Mr. Two-and-a-half- 
years is asked, "Shall I read to you out of this book?" 
he answers, "No, but something inside of it," because 
that is what he wants. 

Love of nonsense songs, and of Mother Goose, and 
the making up of nonsense rhymes mark this period 
also, which may begin as early as three and a half 
years. A little child will often sit by himself singing 
over lists of word: mam^ pant, tcvn, sam, j(un, etc., 
taking an immense delight in it. Sometimes he will 
rhyme his answers to your questions, or make all his 
conversation rhythmical. 

With the process of narrowing or limitation well 
marked, the child's wa}^ is comparatively clear before 
him. It is thenceforth the usual process of the forma- 
tion of correct concepts as traced by Baldwin. An 
object is first given which is both percept and concept. 
When other objects are presented like this in some 
respects, the same word is used for all, until the child 
fails to get what he wants by this common word, and 
so is forced to make species and varieties to go under 
the larger class. In the expression of the ideas, he 
uses the words that he knows, making new and quaint 
combinations, but little by little imitation teaches 
him the conventional signs, and he drops the original 
forms. 



22 



336 



THE CHILD 



REFERENCES 



Allen, M. A. Development of Child's Language. Mother's 

Nursery Guide, February, 1893. 
Buckman, S. S. Speech of Children. Nineteenth Century, 

1897, 792-807. 
Canfield, W. B. Development of Speech in Infants. Babyhood, 

May, 1897. 
Chamberlain, A. F. The Child, 107-171. L. W. Scott. 
Champneys, F. H. Notes on an Infant. Mind, Vol. III., 104. 
Chrisman, O. Secret Language. C. S. M., 1896, 202-11. Also 

Century, 1898. 54-58- 
Collins, J. Genesis and Dissolution of the Faculty of Speech. 

N. Y. Macmillan, $3.50. 
Darwin, C. Biography of a Child. Mind, 1877. 
Dewey, John. Psychology of Infant Language. Psy. Rev., 

1894, Vol. I., 63-66. 
Gale, Harlow T. Vocabularies of Three Children. Gale's Psycho- 
logical Studies, 1900, Vol. I., 70-117, 
Greenwood, J. M. Vocabularies of Children. Kept, as Supt. of 

Kansas City Schools, 18S7-88, pp. 52-65. 
Groos, Kar]. The Play of Man, 31-48, 294-300. N. Y. Apple- 
ton, !§i.5o. 
Hale, H. Origin of Language. Proc. Am. Assoc. Adv. Sc, 
Vol. XXXV., 1886. (Account of language invented by 
children. Summary in Romanes' Mental Evolutio?t of 
Man, 138-144. N. Y. Appleton, iJs-oo.) 
Holden, E. S. Vocabulary of Children under Two Years. Trans. 

A7n. Philol. Ass'n, 1877, 58-68. 
Humphreys, W. Contributions to Infantile Linguistics. Trans. 

Am. Philol. Ass'n, 18S0. 
Kirkpatrick, E. A. How Children Learn to Talk. Science, O. S. 

Sept. 25, 1891. 
Lamson, Mary Swift. Life and Educatio7i of Laura Bridg- 

man. Boston. Houghton, Mifflin, §1.50. 
Lukens, Herman. Learning of Language. Ped. Sem., 1894-96, 

424-460. 
Mach, E. Language: Its Origin, Development and Significance 
for Scientific Thought. Opeti Court, 1900, Vol. XIV., 
171-178. 



LANGUAGE ^^y 

Mallery, G. Sign Language among North American Indians. 
I St An. Rept. Bureau of Ethtiology, 1881. (Also sum- 
marized in Romanes' Mental Evolution in Man. N. Y. 
Appleton, $3.00.) 

McKendrick, J. G. Experimental Phonetics. Nature, 1901, 
182-189. 

Noble, E. Child Speech. Education, September and October, 
1888. 

Perez, B. First Three Years of Childhood, 234-262. Syracuse. 
Bardeen, ^1.50. 

Pollock, F. Infant's Progress in Language. Mind, Vol. III. 

Potter, S. O. Speech and Its Defects. Phil. Blakiston, $1.00. 

Preyer, W. Mind of the Child^Senses and Intellect, 99-188. 
N. Y. Appleton, $1.00. (Very detailed and accurate account 
of speech from birth to three years. See appendix for sum- 
mary of Sigismund, Lobish, Taine, Striimpell, Darwin, 
Vierordt, Schultze, Lindner, Tiedemann, Feldmann, 
Holden, Haldemann, Humphreys.) 

Ribot, Th. Abstraction Prior to Speech. Open Court, 1899, 
14-20. 
Evolution of Speech, Ope7i Court, 1899, 266-278. (Anthro- 
pological in nature. ) 

Romanes, G. J. Mental Evolution in Man, Chapter VI. Also 
see Index. N. Y. Appleton, $3.00. 

Salisbury, A. A Child's Vocabulary. Educ. Rev., Vol. VII., 
289-290. (Vocabulary of child at 32 weeks and 51^^ years.) 

Sanford, E. C. Language of Children. Notes. Fed. Sem., iSgi, 
257-260. (Summary of many men.) 

Scripture, E. W. Terminal Verb in Infant Speech. Science, O. S. 
Vol. XXIII., 62. (Observation to show that English child 
sometimes naturally puts infinitive at end of sentence, 
instead of directly after verb. ) 
Researches in Experimental Phonetics. Studies from Yale 
Psy. lab., 1899, Vol. VII., i-ioi. 

Stevenson, A. Speech of Children. Science, O. S. March 3, 1893. 

Sully, James. Studies of Childhood— The Little Linguist. 
N. Y. Appleton, %'i.io. 

Taine, H. Acquisition of Language by Children. Mind, \%-ji. 

Taine, H. On Intelligence, Vol. II., 1 38 -151. N. Y. Holt, 
$2.50. 



^-58 '^^^ CHILD 

Tiedemann, Theirry. Record of Infant Life. Syracuse. 
Bardeen, |o. 15. (Interesting as one of the very first care- 
ful records of a child's language.) 

Tracy F. Psychology of Childhood. Boston. Heath, I0.90. 

Wolfe, H. K. Color Vocabulary of Children. Univ. of Neb- 
Studies, July, 1890, 205-245. 



CHAPTER XVII 

Rhythm and Music 

1. Ask adults and children to name the first ten 
nursery rhymes that come into their heads. observa- 
Note the rhytlams. tions. 

2. Compare the rhythm and time of tunes in your 
head with your heart beat and breathing. 

3. Notice what songs your children sing most spon- 
taneously. 

4. Ask what song they like best and notice whether 
the liking is due to 

(i) Season, e.g., Christmas songs. 

(2) Imitation. 

(3) Permanent interest. 

5. Try to get song composition from some child or 
small group of children uninstructed in music. 

Before taking up rhythm as related to music, let us 
first notice how general a thing it is and universality 
how it underlies all mental activity. of rhytiim. 

Natural phenomena almost universally take a 
rhythmical form. We have first the great swing of the 
worlds in their course about the center of the uni- 
verse, in a rhythm never yet completed. Then we 
have the course of each world about its sun, of each 
satellite about its world, and the rotation of the various 
worlds upon their axes, making the rhythms of the 
year, month and day. In our sun there seem to be 
rhythms recurring about every eleven years, causing 

339 



340 



THE CHILD 



our sun spots, and, it is seriously conjectured, affecting 
the harvests of our earth and resulting in disturbed 
atmospheric and organic conditions which lead to our 
periodical money panics and outbreaks of crime and 
suicide. However this may be, it is unquestionable 
that the yearly, monthly, and daily rhythms seriously 
modify both the vegetable and animal creation. Some 
plants have a daily rhythm of growth and rest; most 
of them have an annual one; all seek the sun. Even 
the moon influences the growth of some plants. 

In the animal world there are corresponding rhythms. 
Growth is faster in summer than in winter, and we can 
each observe annual rhythms in our mental moods 
according to the seasons. Certain states of mind and 
even trains of thought are likely to recur with each 
season. "Spring poetry," so much laughed at, or 
something corresponding to it, is, I suspect, written 
by many more people than are willing to acknowl- 
edge it. 

The monthly rhythms seem to be especially con- 
nected with the reproductive and nervous systems. 
The period of gestation in various species of animals is 
usually a month, or a number of days which is seven or 
some multiple of seven. Disturbances of the nervous 
system, recurrent insanities, abnormal cravings for 
liquors and other stimulants, are also likely to have 
a monthly rhythm. 

Weekly rhythms are less clearly marked, but as we 
saw in the chapter on growth, there is a weekly rhythm 
of growth which was probably the cause of the change 
in our manner of living on Sunday. It has led to cer- 
tain rhythms of thought and feeling. We sleep later, we 
are hungry at different times, and we think differently. 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC 



.4^ 



The daily rhythm of sleep and waking is a universal 
one and it seems to be accompanied by one of growth. 
This is a genuine organic rhythm, caused probably 
by the rhythm of day and night, and can not be easily 
changed so that we shall sleep in the day and work at 
night. 

There are many other bodily rhythms, of which we 
will mention only a few: the pulse and heart beat, 
respiration, walking, and speech. Every special 
cell seems to have its own rhythm of alter- bodily 
nate activity and rest; the nervous system rhythins. 
sends out rhythmical stimuli, differing in different 
parts. Thus the brain can send out only about thirteen 
per second, and the cord about thirty-four. Fatigue is 
also a rhythmical thing, a period of exhaustion alter- 
nating with one of recovery. 

Not only is every bodily process a rhythmical one, 
but every mental one as well. Any one who watches 
himself will observe alternations of waxing and wan- 
ing in the distinctness of his ideas and mental images. 
If he tries to hold one idea unchanged, he will be able 
to see clearly the rhythm of his attention. This is 
perhaps best shown in retinal rivalry. 

As rhythm is such a fundamental thing in nature, it 
is not surprising that when given to us objectively it 
finds in us a response. Almost any effect Most corn- 
can be produced in susceptible people by moniy liked 
appropriate rhythms, from putting them to ^^y^^^s. 
sleep to rousing them to a state of frenzy closely akin 
to madness. Just what rhythm will have each effect, 
is not fully decided upon. Baldwin found that when 
he suddenly discovered himself singing a tune, the 
rhythm and time might be determined by any one of a 



342 



THE CHILD 



number of factors — his step, as he walked, his heart 
beat, or his breathing. It seems reasonable that 
a rhythm which is in accord with and slower than the 
rh^/thmic activities of the body would be soothing; if 
faster, exciting, and if of a different kind, unpleasant. 

Mr. Bolton found also that in listening to a series of 
uniform clicks the most common grouping within the 
widest limits was by 2's, when the rate of the clicks 
was moderate; when fast, by the heart beats. When 
the stimuli were .795 seconds apart, the mind grouped 
by 2's; .460, by 3's; .407, by 4's. Usually he found 
that the breathing accommodated itself to the rhythm 
instead of vice versa. 

Whether a grouping is by 2, 4, 8, 16, etc., or 3, 6, 
12, etc., seems to depend upon the rapidity of the 
stimuli. But why 2 or 3 is chosen is unexplained, 
unless it varies with the pulse. Grouping by 5's is 
always very difficult. 

These observations have been confirmed in another 
way by Triplett and Sanford. They asked large num- 
bers of persons to send in lists of the first 
Rhymes. ^ , , ... 

ten nursery rhymes that came mto their 

heads. Of these, they selected the one hundred most 
often mentioned and examined their rhythm. They 
found that, 

1. The most frequent stanza is of four lines, with 
four stresses, the lines rhyming in couplets. A com- 
mon example is: 

"Georgie porgie, pumpkin pie. 
Kissed the girls and made them cry," etc. 

2. The second in frequency consists of the first and 
third lines with four stresses, and the second and 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC 1? 1^ 

fourth with three, with or without an internal rhyme. 

"Mistress Mary, quite contrary, 
How does your garden grow," etc. 

This rhyme is much less common than the first, in 
child poetry. 

3. Three three-stress lines and one four-stress, with 
the last line a repetition of the first. 

"Hickory, dickory, dock. 
The mouse ran up the clock." 

These three rhythms include four-fifths of the one 
hundred nursery rhymes, and one-half of the hymns in 
a hymnal (the particular hymnal not given). The 
remainder of the rhythms differ widely. 

Triplett and Sanford find that in the recitation of 
these rhythms, there is a general uniformity in the 
intervals between stresses except at the end of lines, 
where they are longer; and there is a general quicken- 
ing of time toward the end of the piece. 

The characteristic movement of the common 
rhythms depends partly on the distribution of the 
pauses and partly- on this quickening. 

Tests on school children show that they force the 
words into a pattern, but also vary the patterns some- 
what: 

"Sing a song of six pence,'' 
or, 

"Sing a song of six pence." 

Turning now to music, we find all sorts of theories 
as to its origin. Darwin advanced the theory that 
music originated as a courtship art both in birds and 



'2AA THE CHILD 

in man, but actual observations of the animals near- 
est to man and of savages do not seem to confirm 
this view. Still we may suppose that at first 

2.»^f^?°^ languag^e and music were not distinct, the 
music. *=' '^^ ' 

cry being the common root from which 
the two have developed in different ways. Music 
proper, or melody, seems to arise first in connection 
with the dance, and the dance in its original form was 
the reproduction of the activities of existence or, it may 
be, a propitiation of the gods. Uniformly the dance 
takes a rhythmic character. At first it is performed 
in silence, but as the dancers get aroused they give 
vent to their feelings in more violent movements, and in 
cries, the cries naturally assuming a rhythmic character 
consonant with the movements. Thus the rude song is 
born, a song without words, and in almost a monotone. 

This theory fits in very well with what we can see of 
children's natural musical tastes. The development of 
melody and harmony is much later than the apprecia- 
tion of rhythmical cries. Gurney says that the former 
does not appear until four or five years. We should 
expect kindergarten children then not to care so much 
about singing the melody as about keeping time. 

The child, as we have seen, is born deaf, and 

remains so for a time varying from a few hours to 

several days. When hearing is established, 

ciiiidsiove sQuj^(^i seems to have marked effects, for 
of noises. ' 

small children are more easily terrified by 

loud sounds than by almost anything else. Preyer and 

Perez note that in the seventh and eighth weeks a child 

listened to the singing of lullabies with much pleasure 

and showed an appreciation of piano playing by his 

vigorous movements and laughter at the loud notes. 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC -i^r 

Children of six months show great enjoyment of music; 
at nine months some will reproduce musical tones. 
Perez also records the case of a child who sang himself 
to sleep, when only nine months old. By the age of a 
year some will reproduce tones quite perfectly. Sigis- 
mund says that musical tones are imitated before 
spoken ones. Noises of all kinds appeal to children, 
even unpleasant ones, especially if there is any rhyth- 
mic arrangement, and they delight in reproducing them 
as far as possible. 

Children vary greatly among themselves and at dif- 
ferent ages in their ability to distinguish tones. We 
find the child who sings the scale in one tone 

from c to c ; and another one who can singf ^^^^i^iye- 

. s ness to tones, 

the chromatic scale with ease. Whether any 

given child is tone-deaf or simply lacks training, can be 
told only by experiment, and, even if not up to the aver- 
age, many a child's ability can be improved by practice. 

In children from six to nineteen years of age, the 
least sensitive age is six, when the least perceptible 
difference of two tones is about one-quarter of a tone. 
Thence to nine years there is twice as much gain in 
sensitiveness as from nine to nineteen years; and after- 
ward a more gradual gain, with a break and retro- 
gression at ten and at fifteen years. 

The actual tastes of children seem to have been 
little observed. Miss Gates' and Mr. Marsh's articles 
are the only ones on this subject. Miss songs liked 
Gates had answers from two thousand chil- by children, 
dren, one hundred boys and one hundred girls for each 
year from six to sixteen. 

I. She found that 22 per cent of the girls and 12 per 
cent of the boys of seven years like best lullabies and 



346 



THE CHILD 



baby songs, while 14 per cent of the girls and 7 per 
cent of the boys like home songs the best. "Home 
Sweet Home" is the favorite. Of the seven-year-old 
boys and girls 43 per cent like school songs the 
best; nature songs are the favorites. Twice as many 
boys as girls like negro songs. "Swanee River" and 
"Massa's in the Cold, Cold Ground" are the favorites. 

2. Religious songs are best liked by two hundred 
and ninety-six girls and six hundred and ninety-six 
boys at six years; 23 per cent of the girls and 6 per cent 
of the boys at thirteen years; 27 per cent of the girls and 
6 per cent of the boys at sixteen years, making an aver- 
age of 18 per cent. "Nearer my God" is the favorite. 

3. National song^ are best liked by 13 per cent of the 
girls and 18 per cent of the boys at seven years; 29 per 
cent of the girls at twelve years; 40 per cent of the 
boys at eight years. "America' ' and the"Star Spangled 
Banner" divide the honors here. Marsh gives this 
table of "The one song he liked best in all the world." 
The returns are from six thousand three hundred and 
thirty-eight children. The table is given in per cents. 

Boys 



Grade 


School 


Sunday 
School 


Patriotic 


Street 


Home 


I 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

7 

8 

9 

10 

II 


43 
39 
29 
12 

7 
6 
II 
9 
3 
3 



10 

II 

8 

10 
II 

4 

10 

68 

I 



16 


26 

20 

40 

42 
30 
15 
48 
60 
58 
65 
25 


9 
9 
14 
21 
18 
17 
26 

9 
9 

5 
33 


9 
10 
10 
12 
12 

21 
10 

14 
26 

25 
25 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC 



Girls 



347 



Grade 


School 


Sunday 
School 


Patriotic 


Street 


Home 


I 

2 

3 

5 

6 

7 

8 

9 

TO 

II 


43 

43 
39 

12 

9 

\l 

3 
I 
o 


15 

lO 

II 

15 

9 

19 

22 

I 

ID 

29 


13 
15 
25 
32 
37 
20 
32 
21 
47 
27 


6 

6 

8 

15 

17 

21 

2 

7 

4 




II 

II 
15 
24 
26 

17 
26 

35 
38 
44 



Boys and Girls 



Grade 


School 


Sunday 
School 


Patriotic 


Street 


Home 


I 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

7 

8 

9' 

TO 

11 


45 
42 

39 

19 

9 

7 

12 

13 
3 
2 



13 
16 

9 

14 
13 

7 

15 
16 

2 

7 
26 


23 
23 
31 
35 
41 
43 
37 
44 
59 
53 
26 


8 

8 

II 

16 

17 

17 

21 

5 

9 

5 

7 


10 
II 
12 
13 
18 
24 
14 
21 

27 
33 
41 



Many reasons are given why the favorite piece is 
liked. As children grow older, more say it is because 
they like the music or words, and fewer because they 
have associations with it, or it is nice, pretty or sweet. 
The associations are of all sorts — of home, Christmas 
or some holiday, with historical events, or simply with 
smell or some other sense. A very small per cent of 
the favorites are movement songs, and as a rule major 
keys are preferred to muior ones. 



348 



THE CHILD 



It is interesting to note the changes in taste with 
advancing years. The school songs show these varia- 
tions: boys and girls, 43 per cent in 1st 
tas^e^^^^^ grade to 9 per cent and 16 per cent in 8th 

grade, and none in nth grade. 
S. S. songs, boys, 10% in 1st grade, to 16% in nth grade, 
girls, 15% " " " 29% 

Patriotic songs show remarkable fluctuations in the 
liking of the boys and girls, as the table indicates. 
Street songs increase in number to 4th grade; decrease 
slightly to the 7th, and rapidly to the nth. They 
then rise suddenly to 33 per cent in nth grade. 

With the girls the curve is of the same nature though 
of a smaller per cent, except that at the nth grade it 
decreases to o instead of rising. 

The per cent of home songs increases to 6th grade, 
falls in 7th grade and then increases gradually. 

The subject of children's musical composition is one 

that is not considered nearly as often as children's 

drawings, and yet there would seem to be 

cMidren "^ reason in the nature of the case why 

children should not create songs as well as 

landscapes. 

The first musical productions are not distinct from 
the beginning of speech. The child cries, howls, 
gurgles and babbles, not only when he is hurt or 
pleased, but just to see what sounds he can make. 

Sometimes one set of sounds takes possession of him 
for a time and he will seem unable to keep from 
repeating it. Perez gives a case of a little girl who 
repeated "tira-tira" for two weeks. Children a little 
older delight in nonsense rhymes, in chain rhymes, in 
alliteration, etc., and will make up all sorts of rhymes 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC 349 

and tunes for them. Children of all ages experiment 
in producing noises not only with the vocal organs 
but also with any instruments they can get hold of. At 
first their song is monotonous, hardly to be distm- 
guished from the speaking voice, but by the age of four 
or five years the two are well marked. 

There seems to be a genuine impulse to musical 
expression in many children which, although modified 
by imitation, is still a true originality. 

So far as the writer's knowledge goes, the only sys- 
tematic work that has been done by school children in 
song composition is in the Elementary School of the 
University of Chicago. This is so suggestive that the 
teacher's account and some of the songs are given. 

SONG COMPOSITION* 

That music is an important factor in the growth of 
the child's esthetic nature is a fact generally con- 
ceded. Is it, however, practically made use of? Is 
the nursery, which we now realize must be artistic as 
well as wholesome, furnished with the means of pro- 
ducing beautiful sounds— failing the human voice, with 
the vox liiimmia, or other soft-toned instrument? 

As early as he is show^n beauty in color and form 
the child should have beauty in tone and melody 
given him. There are no unmusical children. Inter- 
est in musical expression is one of the natural resources 
of the child, and unconsciously he will awaken to a 
melodic conception through repetitions, in pure and 
gentle tone, of melodies suited to his understanding. 
This process can not be begun too early. Having 
understood, he possesses a mental picture which he 
seeks to ex press by humming or singing. This 

* By May Root Kern. 



350 



THE CHILD 



expression of an esthetic impulse is as natural to the 
child as his expression in color. Needing no utensil, 
it is simpler, and would be more readily used were his 
early environment as full of tone as of color. The 
more he hears of this music, the more he assimilates 
and the more he has to express. And not alone 
through imitation. If he be given a poetic phrase 
which touches his imagination, he can give his own 
melodic conception of it; and the awakening of this 
creative faculty brings a joy which stimulates the 
growth of his whole esthetic nature. 

There is nothing more precious to a child than his 
own creation, and to preserve his melodic thought he 
will wish to acquire a knowledge of the symbols neces- 
sary to express it. The basis for a study of the science 
of music is formed by his desire to express various 
forms of melodic thought. He realizes the necessity 
for the controlled use of his fingers to express them 
beautifully on the keyboard, and grasps the necessity 
of manual drill. His whole study of the technique of 
piano-playing is illumined, and the proper relationship 
of idea and its servant expression has been preserved. 
Problems introduced by the growing intricacy of his 
conceptions — key relationships, transposition, har- 
mony — are mastered with a natural motive, and, led 
by his own impulse, he is ready with open mind and 
heart to receive, according to his capacity, the riches 
which master-minds are still pouring nto the music 
treasuries of the world. 

In the school, a problem to be coped with arises 
from the diversity of musical attainment in the groups. 
Children from non-musical environment are to be 
handled with others who are developed musically. To 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC -2 r J 

lessen the chasm, much thought is given to creating a 
musical atmosphere. The formal side of the work is 
made as melodious as possible, and all technical exer- 
cises are clothed in harmony. The children have 
weekly opportunity of hearing a short program of 
music by the best composers, performed by friends of 
the school, by teachers, or by pupils prepared through 
outside work. The older children have heard short 
and simple talks on the lives and work of the great 
masters, illustrated by piano and vocal selections. A 
large part of each period of work is spent in song- 
singing. The school has been divided into two 
choruses, one ranging from six to eight and a half 
years of age, the other from nine to thirteen. These 
choruses have sung melodies learned by rote in their 
group work, the older chorus having in its repertoire 
songs by Franz Schumann, Wagner, Reinecke, Hum- 
perdinck, and some of the best English composers. In 
connection with their work in Latin, they have learned 
a Latin song of nine stanzas and a shorter Christmas 
hymn; in connection with French, several chansons 
poptilaircs and two old French rounds. The latter, 
being very simple in melody, have furnished a valu- 
able exercise in concentration. There being in this 
chorus a considerable proportion of children unable to 
sing a connected melody correctly, perfection in detail 
is impossible. The special aims, other than famili- 
arity with good songs and the memorizing of texts, 
have been bodily poise, deep breathing, careful enunci- 
ation, and a pure quality of tone. A picked chorus of 
twenty-five voices is now being arranged which will be 
trained to do some model singing for the benefit of the 
school. 

23 



352 



THE CHILD 



Owing to the wide differences in musical develop- 
ment, it was difficult to find a common ground for 
the work of each group as a whole. The technical 
work founded on short, original phrases sometimes 
failed to arouse interest in those children who but 
imperfectly grasped melodic idea. The proposition, 
however, to select a topic and write a complete com- 
posite song, which should express the genius of the 
group, brought a unity of impulse at once. It was 
supposed that the unmusical children would devote 
themselves to the text and leave the musical setting 
to the rest. But not so; the general enthusiasm 
awoke them to an overflow of musical ideas, and a 
firm belief in their own phrase as given. Whatever 
of novelty the songs possess is owing to the odd inter- 
vals offered by these non-musical children. It was 
necessary to harmonize them attractively to gain their 
acceptance by the musical members of the group, 
who, left to themselves, would have given only the 
most obvious phrases and thus produced more com- 
monplace results. 

After several successful songs had been composed, a 
group of children between seven and eight years, below 
the average in musical development, but having a 
strong feeling for rhythm, wrote the following, which 
is saved from monotony by the final phrase given by a 
boy almost tone-deaf. He offered the phrase, which 
was repeated on the piano as nearly as possible as he 
had given it. He objected, however, saying what was 
played was not what he intended to give. After 
repeated attempts, the teacher succeeded in discover- 
ing what he had persistently kept in his mind, but 
could not express. 



Autumn '98, 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC 

CHRISTMAS MORNING 



353 




1. One win-ter morn Be-fore the dawn, We woke and 'twas 

2. I had a doll And she was small, My broth 



er 



:fe 



i==i 



-"K- 



r— ! - ^ - 



Christ-mas 
had a 



The girls and the 



The ba 



by, 



boys Quick 
too, Had 



: ifiii±iz±z=±: 



^^^g^sSi^iipy 



be 



play 



ran to their toys, And all 
some- thing- new— A lit - tie dog named Spot. 

It was at first thought that the six-year-old children 
were too young to carry a thought through the several 
periods (occurring but twice a week) required to finish 
a song. At their request, however, they were allowed 
to undertake the task, and evinced as much continuity 
of thought and purpose as the older children. 

In writing the texts for songs, the youngest children, 
as soon as the idea of rhythm and rhyme is gained, 
insist upon making consecutive lines rhyme as in the 
"Valentine Song." They free themselves gradually 
from rhyme limitations, as: 

"The children will go 

Out in the snow 
And have some jolly fun. 

They'll make big balls 

While the snow falls, 
Until a snowman's done.' 



354 



Winter '99. 



THE CHILD 

VALENTINE SONG 



|#^-4 t'^^. 




— J 


1 


; — 





1. Val - en - tine's 

2. I'll send my 


-•- 

5 day 
friend 


1 I^ 

is 
a 


near 
val - 

1 


— *— 

■ Iv 
en - 


-•- 

here, We 
tine, The 

1 1 


^:,-4 — 


:1 
-•- 

— # — 

r 


-S-- 

-0- 


— f 


~~-0~ 


— ?• M 


lp^:|-^ *- 


1 


^ _ 


—61 — 


1 


^— ^- 



ii 



-^-^- 



::1: 



^n 



hope the postman will bring ns cheer; We'll clap our hands for 
pret-tiest one that I can find; My cons -in will send 



^ 



fj 



a=S=S; 



T^F=^=^ 



I 



I 



f;^ 



-1^— g^ 



joy when he brings The ros-es, and doves, and pretty things, 
one to me, And then how hap-py we shall be. 



5 « 



:q: 



^=C- 



Hi: 



-*— ?5(- 



i 



(si 



.ig: 






e= 



1 1 



-12- 



P 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC -5 r r 

And finally, able to conceive of the stanza as a 
whole, realize that only a minimum of rhyme is neces- 
sary. 

The twelve-year-old children completed two lines of 
a stanza for a winter song, but the effort was then 
abandoned, there being too much self-consciousness in 
the group to admit of free expression. Later their 
creative impulse triumphed and they produced a song 
for Lincoln's birthday: 



LINCOLN 




^=t 



:^=±=q 



1. 'Twas in a small log cab - in, One Feb-ru - a - ry 

2. He rose to be a states - man Of ver - y great re- 







;fc.E3 



« o 



m 



M: 



-y- — \ -|— rT -i \— 


1 ' 1 


A \ 1 1 1 • J ' 


1 


1^ \ 


ifh <j 


^ [ ^ - # 


<i 


1 ^-\ 


\A) ^ • " r" \ 


^ 2 • ^ n 


day, 
nown, 


A lit - tie Lin-cohi ba - by 
His wis - doni saved the Un - ion, 


In a 
And 


[/ 1 , 1 \ \ J 


1 1 1 


r\ \ 


J - 1 J 


i 1 1 n 


\'\\ A 1 


« J LJ * J 


• tf T i 


-*- 
1 


•• • ' 2 J • ^ 




«' 1 


* ^ s \ ^l' f --^ 




(m\* J 


1 




(^J. r^ 


^ 




r'—i — 


1 '^ 


rj 


<^ ' 




1 


^- 


^ 





356 



THE CHILD 



:ttit 



■^— 



■^ 



small rude era - die lay; When at the age of 

sla - v'ry he put down; 'Twas in the spring of 



:1: 



^^f 



W 



i 



J - 



m 



=F^ 



-<5?- 



fT25i- 



^ 



^— 



twelve, By night he stud - ied law, And 

six - ty - five That mes - sen - gers rode fast To 



-4- 



5: ^ 



-2?- 



i 



1=i 



S 



^X 



-4 — ^ 



V-- 



when the morning dawned a-new, A-gain took up his saw. 
bring the news of Lincoln's death, — The noble life had passed. 



=t 









-s- -s- 



-7^" 

S 



-7^- 






-i- -•- -=^- -<S-. 



B 



Winter '99. 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC 

WASHINGTON 



357 



-0- 



'^'- 



t=t 



:4=b 



d=: 



# -#- -#- 

George Washington went off to war Up - on a no-ble 
night he crossed the Del-a-ware When it was bit-ter 

^, 1 r . \ r ^ 



-^ 



:i: 



■25*- 






S 



1=F 



I 



^=^ 






steed; He fought so well that peo - pie tell That 
cold; He beat the Eng-lish en - e - my With 



i 



:z|; 



f^ 



:J; -f- I 



-F 1 — I — ?r3- 



2?- 



-7^ 



m 



-s^— 



-<$'- 



:1=ri:t: 



$ 



^=^=si=^r- 






he was brave in-deed. One 
[Oinii ] his com-pan-ions bold. 



:^^ 



r^ 



PSi 



^- IJ-.S'^- # -S^'5'- -g^ 



^ 



Eef^ 



3=^: 



-s5= — 



i 



358 



THE CHILD 



The eigh-year-old children followed the song on 
Lincoln with the above song on Washington. 

Both of these songs have been sung by the younger 
chorus at the respective anniversaries for two years, 
and are asked for at other times. It would be difificult 
to find songs written by adults which would appeal to 
the younger children's minds and hearts as do these, in 
spite of their crudities. The simplicity of thought 
and expression in the text, the sweetness and vitality 
of the melodies, exactly suit their needs. Practical 
trial for over a year has shown their preference for 
some of these school songs to the best child songs 
written by adults that have been presented to them. 
This applies to children from six to nine years of age — 
a time when they are not ready for involved idea or 
melody, and yet resent singing about what little dew- 
drop felt or little pussywillow said. The children 
seem to recognize the same attractive quality in the 
subsequent songs of these two groups, viz., Fourth of 
July and Spinning Song. 



Spring and Autumn '99. 



SPINNING SONG 



'^m^^. 



■^- 



^^E^E^ 



rf^: 



1. The spinning wheel goes 'round so fast, It makes a sound like 

2. The spinning wheel it h«r-ries on, And makes so many 






liEE 









m^ 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC 







359 



Br The threads they 

Br It goes as 






;e 






-^-•-.^-jr*-^: 



—I — ; 

1- 



^— *- 









:«t 



il 



A--, 



twist and nev - er miss; We'll weave the threads as 
with a hun-dred wings; From cot - ton, wool, and 



( W: — • — '-f, — «— ^— •— -«^^-i-4' 




:3zzz:1: 



-•-- 



-•— 









tight as we can, To make the can - vas strong, And 
silk worms' cocoons It makes thread, yarn. and silk And 




36o 



THE CHILD 



:=)=: 



k^^EEg^^ 



then we'll shape it in- to tents, With poles just twelve feet 
then we dye them brilliant tints, Or bleach them white as 



-i- 



:^==:]=E:i=qz 






gfc^: 



-•-^ 



EEEEEE=l: 



-«— 



BEEEiEfEgE 



1*=^: 






long, 
milk. 



O spin - ning wheel, O spin-ning wheel, How 



-I !-• 1 — « « — A — •- 



«i=3=*- 



I 



^ — ^— 3— ^— : 



V— ^•- 



:i=:j=i^=i 



:q: 



O I could spin on 



pret - ti - ly you go! 



-• m — ^- 



-• #- 



n^-S' 









-4\— 



-# b/- 



• ^. 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC 



36 




you all day Be - cause I like you sol, 



m=± 



is: 



m 



I 



^Ei 



^1 



As Easter approached, the six-year-old children, 
filled with anticipation of the day, asked to write a 
song about it. One child gave the first line with its 
melody; others quickly followed with the second and 
third lines. The fourth, however, required persistent 
effort before the requirements of rhythm and rhyme 
were met. The children showed no diminution of 
interest in wrestling with the problem. 



EASTER SONG 



Winter 99. 




-S ^ *— L# •— ^^ — ^—^—-^ 

East - er day is coming soon, The rabbits will be here and lay: 



:i 



I 



:^=^i1: 



In the gar-den we shall find Eggs to paint and give a- way. 



Attempts made by the youngest classes of this 
school year have resulted equally well: 



^^2 '^^^ CHILD 

SANTA CLAUS* 



Autumn '99. 



3 



Kfi4 -^— ^— ^-F# — * — * — •-h 



^ — * 



San -ta Claus, San- ta Claus is coming,-ting - a - ling! The 



-9 M- 



-0 , 

rein - deer are rac - ing and the lit - tie bells ring; He's 



A-#- 



bringing toys for lit- tie boys, And dolls for lit -tie girls, And 



m^^^^s^^mi^^^ 



— , 



bring-ing for the ba - by A wool -ly lamb with curls. 

The group composed entirely of nnisically developed 
children was the last to produce a connected song. 
The original scheme of work — the study of selected 
songs with its detail, vand the learning of symbols for 
their own short melodic phrases— contented them. 
Emulation, however, urged them to write, and they 
undertook the task as imitators, thus with less exhilara- 
tion than the others showed. 

Later a second impulse, more genuine than the first, 
resulted in one of the best of the school songs: 



*To musicians these songs are unusually interesting from 
their close resemblance to early folk-songs and narrative ballads, 
especially to the early German and English folk-songs. "Santa 
Claus", for instance, might be taken intact from an old choral, for 
its simplicity, its movement, and the feehng for minor in the 
sixth, seventh and eighth bars. A. E. T. 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC 



363 



BOAT SONG 




1. The boat is rock - ing, rock - ing, While we're on the 

2. The sun sets in the ev - 'ning.And glit-ters on the 






m 



I 



sea; 
sea: 



-0— — 0- 



-0 — 0- 



-* — • — 



The wind blows the sails gen-tly on, And 
Gulls dive un-der the wa - ter, Then 



izrj' 







-0-t 



a: 



:d: 



spray dashes up to me. 
fly in the air so free, 



The lit - tie mermaids are 
Swift-ly up to their 



-ii-5 



-~. 1 — I — — I — ■ — 1-# f- 



^=1=]: 



0-^-0 





■0 — 0- 

- — , — #- 

-0—— 



@E i 



'^^T 



-0-— 



3^4 



THE CHILD 



I 



Bi^jg j 



float - ing, Float - ing far a - way; 

nest - lings, Up - on the rocks so high; 




• •^i 



I 



m 



Deep, deep in the wa - ter, I see the sea-weed sway. 
There they stay in the dark-ness,Till morning's glow is nigh. 



8va. 



^f± 



Composition work with the children has value in 
proportion to its being an untrammeled expression of 
their own musical consciousness. The teacher's task 
is to encourage through beautifying the child's thought 
by harmonic background. A stenographic report of 
the process of writing the text for a song by a group 
eleven years of age is an illustration of the method of 
procedure: 

The following three lines had been made the week 
before: 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC ^5c 

The icicles hang from the windows high, 
And the wind goes shrieking and howling by; 
The bright moonlight shines down on the snow, 

Some one wanted an adjective for snow and sug- 
gested "glittering," which was objected to on account 
of rhythm. 

And one little rabbit goes jumping below, 

was suggested for the last line. Some of the children 
objected to having the rabbit, saying that it was such 
a cold night, he would not be out, and suggested 
instead: 

And hunters through the woods do go. 

Another child suggested that the hunters would not be 
out at night; another insisted that that would be just 
the time they would be returning from a deer hunt. 
Some one wanted: 

And hunters walking about below. 

Another suggested substituting "Indians" for "hunt- 
ers." Another suggestion was: 

No flowers are blooming down below. 

From time to time the teacher re-read the lines, so 
that they could get the rhythm, and, after a while, 
none of the lines suggested after the first being 
regarded as equal to the first, they went back to that. 
"Little," "lonely," "hopping," and "father" were sug- 
gested as describing the rabbit. "Lonely" was finally 
accepted as best suited to the verse. "Hunting" was 
substituted for "jumping," as more suggestive, and the 
line as finally accepted read: 

And one lonely rabbit goes hunting below. 



^56 THE CHILD 

The teacher suggested that, as the first verse was 
about night, the second be about the day. 

Some of the children wanted a chorus. The 
teacher suggested that this was not a jolly song, so 
that it did not lend itself easily to a chorus; but if one 
appropriate could be thought up, it could be used. 
None could be thought of at the time, so the second 
verse was begun. 

The first line suggested was: 

As the day grows near and the night grows far. 

"Comes," and finally "draws," was suggested in place 
of "grows," and "passes" in place of "grows far." 
"Passes away" was objected to on account of the 
number of syllables. 

The teacher suggested that, as they were going 
from a night verse to a day verse, it would be well to 
put the night idea first. It was then given: 

As the night disappears and the day draws near. 
The next line was at once suggested: 

Again the cheerful birds we hear 
The next two lines were suggested as: 
Jumping about on the fleecy snow. 
Hopping around do the snow birds go. 
One of the children suggested that the snow birds are 
about a house, and she wanted the song about a lonely 
place on the mountains. The last two lines were 
objected to on the ground that birds had just been 
mentioned. The child who proposed the line said she 
was simply telling what the birds did. Then this was 
opposed on the ground that in the first verse the rab- 
bit had been doing about the same thing. 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC 



367 



The teacher suggested that they refer again to the 
rabbit and tell what became of him in the day^ 

And the same little rabbit goes hopping away, 
For he's found something to feed him that day, 

was suggested. "Same" was objected to, "little" sug- 
gested in its place, and finally "gray" accepted. "For" 
objected to, and "because" rejected, and finally "with" 
accepted. One of the children wanted to suggest 
''manger' for "to eat," saying that French words were 
often used in a song. 

The whole song as finally accepted read: 

The icicles hang from the windows high, 
And the wind goes shrieking and howling by; 
The bright moonlight shines down on the snow. 
And one lonely rabbit goes hunting below. 

As the night disappears and the day draws near, 
Again the cheerful birds we hear; 
And the little gray rabbit goes hopping away 
With something to eat for the rest of the day. 



A WINTER SONG 



Winter igoo. 






fj 



1. The i - ci - cles hang from the win-dovvs high, And the 

2. As the night dis-ap-pears and the day draws near, A - 

f r •■ t. 




24 



368 



THE CHILD 






^ — i2za 



wind goes shriek-ing and howl - ing by; The 
gain the cheer - ful birds we hear; And the 







^=r' 



^ 
-•-' 







:1^ 



bright moon - light shines down on the snow, And 
lit "^ tie grey rab - bit goes hop-ping a - way, With 




fi 



;8 



one lone - ly rab - bit goes hunt -ing be - low. 
some-thing to eat for the rest of the day. 




J: 



J- 

-#- 

^ 



:^=' 



>li- 



r^ 



31 



d: 

-•- 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC 



369 



The melody of this song was given without criticism 
by the four members of the group present, one musical 
phrase from each child in succession, so that text and 
song were completed in two half-hour periods. The 
smaller the group, the less confusion arises from 
various phrases being given at the same time. To 
avoid this confusion it was at first attempted to give 
each child in turn an opportunity to offer a phrase, 
with the result that none were offered. The work can- 
not be done under formal restrictions. 

As no record has been kept of rejected phrases in 
the process of writing a song, only the method of 
procedure can be given here. 

After the children have selected their topic and 
written their text, a musical setting for the first line is 
called for. A quick response usually follows. If 
several phrases are given, the children choose their 
favorite. The second phrase, suggested by the first, 
foUow^s readily. The third usually presents more dififi- 
culty. It is unconsciously realized that this in a 
four-phrase song gives the character to the whole and 
should contain a climax, and it is criticized and labored 
over, sometimes during several periods. The final 
phrase is usually an obvious one; the readiest child 
gives it, and others remark it is just what they were 
going to offer. Originality in a final phrase — as in the 
Winter Song — is greeted with enthusiasm. 

That composition work gives the children a grasp of 
rhythm is shown by the way they handle it in making 
their songs effective. A seven-year group completed 
a Snowman Song in 3-pulse measure rhythm and sang 
it to the school. Later they felt that its flowing 
rhythm was not suited to the requirements of the 



^hQ THE CHILD 

words and found by experiment that by using the more 
energetic 4-pulse the character of their melody became 
what was desired. 

The twelve-year-old children after completing their 
rollicking Fourth of July song experienced a reaction. 
They felt they had not expressed their highest 
musical consciousness, and wished at once to begin a 
song into which they would put their best effort. 
As the Fourth of July song had met with enthusiastic 
approval from the school, this impulse showed a nor- 
mal growth and as such was encouraged. That it was 
genuine was proved by the children's slow and critical 
work, lasting through the remainder of the spring quar- 
ter, resumed after the summer vacation, and carried on 
through more than one-half of the autumn quarter. 
They suggested and directed the piano accompaniment 
at important points, and, after the song was completed 
and sung to the school, further embellished it by add- 
ing a second-voice part. 

No claim is made that these are productions of 
genius, any more than the average child s drawings are. 
The point is that they compare favorably with his draw- 
ings, and even with many school songs. Above all, they, 
like all constructive work, cultivate the appreciation of 
the details and beauties of a piece that can never be 
reached simply by singing other people's productions. 

When we say that children should hear and be taught 

only good music, we are saying vain words, for there 

is as yet no unanimity as to what good 

Musicfor music for children is. Much is condemned 
cliilaren. 

as unchildlike, as not appealing to children; 

while gay jingles that make them jump with glee, are 



RHYTHM AND MUSIC 



371 



characterized as "rag time." Between this Scylla and 
Charybdis the average parent and teacher can not hope 
to steer. We can not tell good music from bad, and 
we may as well confess it and adopt on faith the 
tenets of some one school, without hoping to under- 
stand their reasons. 

We should not, in any case, neglect the subject, for 
music has undoubtedly an effect upon the emotional 
disposition. Plato excluded from his ideal republic 
all music except that which stimulates courage and 
the nobler emotions. All nations from the earliest 
times have employed music at critical periods to 
stimulate them to a greater effort than was possible 
without. To-day physicians employ it for the bene- 
ficial effect upon the insane, idiotic, imbecile, and 
neurotic. We can not, therefore, afford to neglect it 
in education. 

REFERENCES 

Baldwin, J. Mark. Mental Development, Methods and Processes, 

338-350. N. Y. Macmillan, $3.00. 
Bolton, T. S. Rhythm. Am. Jour, of Psy., 1894, 145-234; esp. 

145-174, 204-234. 
Biicher, Karl. Arbeit und Rythmus. Ard. d. Sachs. Ges. d. Wiss. 

(Phil. Hist. Kl), 1896, Vol. XVII., 130. 
Chamberlain, A. F. The Child, 174-197, 180-182, 452. L. 

W. Scott, $1.50. 
Dewey, John. Rhythm, Psychology, 185-7. 

Music. Elementary School Record, No. 2. Chicago. Univ. 

of Chicago Press, $0.17. 
Gates, F. B. Musical Interests of Children. Jour, of Pcd., 1898, 

Vol. II. 
Gilbert, J. Allen. Musical Sensitiveness of School Children. 

Studies of Yale Psy. Lab., Vol. I., 80-87. 
Gilman, B. J. Musical Expressiveness. Am. Jour. 0/ Psy, 42-73. 
Groos, Karl. The Play of Man, i^-^Z. N. Y. Appleton, $1.75. 



372 



THE CHILD 



Hofer. Mari Ruef. A Child's Song. Proc. N. E. A., 602-604. 



Music, 



Proc. 
Marsh's 



v., 463-476. 



Matthews, W. S. B. Music as Discipline and Culture, 

Vol. VI., 349-365- 
Marsh, Florence. Musical Phases of Child Study. 

N. E. A., 1S96, 891-892. (Abstract of Hall and 

Early Musical Manifestations.) 
McDougall, R. Music Imagery. Psy. Rev., Vol 

(Account of a personal experience.) 
Meyer, Max. How a Musical Education Should Be Acquired. 

Ped. Sem., 1900, 124-131. (Account of Hooker's method.) 
Preyer, W. Senses and Will. See Index. N. Y. Appleton, 

$1.50. 
Sully, James. Studies of Childhood, 195-308, 409-492. N. Y. 

Appleton, $2.50. 
Tomlins, W. S. Music, Its Nature and Influence. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

Drawing 

1. Before reading this chapter, draw the story of 
Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Then compare 
with the pictures and descriptions given in observa- 
the chapter. *io^s. 

2. Make a collection of drawings of the story of 
Goldilocks. Observe these precautions: 

(i) Tell the story to the children just before they 
draw, so that it will be vividly present to 
their minds. 

(2) Give them as much choice in the material for 

drawing as possible — crayon, black and 
colored pencil, paints, etc., large and small 
sheets of paper. 

(3) Give them as much time as they want, but 

have the pictures finished at one sitting. 

(4) In the case of little children, label at the time 

any ambiguous objects. 

3. Make a collection of children's spontaneous draw- 
ings, especially of the very first ones, made by the 
child of eighteen months or so. Note how much 
encouragement the child received, and how much 
criticism and instruction. 

4. Keep a dated record of the child's likes and dis- 
likes of colors and bright objects. 

As far back as we can penetrate, ancient peoples 
always had a love for bright objects, or for rare or 

373 



374 



THE CHILD 



curious things, and always loved to decorate them- 
selves. Among savage people of to-day, there are the 
Love for same desires. Many motives unite to 

beauty strengthen these feelings, such as the desire 

universal. ^^^. admiration from the opposite sex, and 
the instinct of property; but there seems also to be a 
spontaneous love for bright and glittering things, that 
is the germ of the esthetic sense. 

What the origin of artistic creation or expression was 
is still much disputed. It is so divorced from prac- 
tical values, so apart from everyday life, that many 
have considered it a sort of excrescence that can not 
be explained by natural laws. It seems most reason- 
able, however, to suppose that it was at first the occu- 
pation of an idle hour when the primitive man's 
supply of food was abundant, when he had rested, and 
when his mind recalled in thought the previous expe- 
riences of the chase or of war. Then, in the song and 
the dance, he reproduced the catching and killing of 
the prey; or with a sharp stone drew them upon his 
hunting knife. 

Both of these interests appear in little children; 
they love to hoard up bright things and to deck them- 
selves with them; they reproduce in play and some- 
times in drawing their own experiences, although 
this first drama, song, or drawing is crude, and the 
love for it often intermittent. To trace the character 
of the growth of these interests is our present object. 

The subject of children's artistic sense includes 
properly drawing, painting, modeling, music and 
story-telling. Only drawing and music can be consid- 
ered here, with occasional references to the other 
branches of art, and it should be understood that, as 



DRAWING 



375 



in all the subjects with which wc have dealt, it is 
impossible to free the child entirely from adult influ- 
ence. At the very least, his taste is affected 
by the pictures in his home, the style of fnfllJence 
furniture, clothes, etc., and usually he is 
helped in his first attempts to draw by a copy made 
by his elders, and his own work is criticized or praised. 
For the sake of convenience, the subject of drawing 

may be divided into two parts: (i) the 

. . r ■ ^ 1 / N .u 1 Love Of color, 

appreciation or pictures, and (2) the mak- 
ing of pictures. Under the first head will also be 
included the very few observations that have been 
made on children's color sense. 

The baby is first attracted by bright objects, regard- 
less of their color or form, especially if they are mov- 
ing. Preyer's bo}^ showed delight on the twenty-third 
day at the sight of a brightly lighted rose-red curtain, 
and when he distinguished colors, at the age of two, 
red and yellow were favorites, and blue and green 
least acceptable. So also with Miss Shinn's niece. 
Baldwin's child, on the contrary, liked blue best, white 
and red following closely. Unfortunately no yellow 
was used in Baldwin's experiments. Brown was a 
nearly neutral color to his child and to Miss Shinn's 
niece. As a rule we should probably find that the 
bright luminous colors would be chosen; thus a bright 
blue would be preferred to a dark red or vice versa, 
regardless of the color to a certain extent. But there 
is little evidence on this point. Another character- 
istic to be noted here is that contrast plays a large part 
in a child's appreciation of colors. 

Appreciation of form is not, at first, separated from 
movement, color, and size. Children as a rule like 



37^ 



THE CHILD 



little things, probably because they have the feeling of 

power over them, of ability to protect and caress them, 

which they cannot have toward a large 

Love of form. , . ' ^ r ^ ^ I 

object. In torm we nnd also not so much 
a love for symmetry, though that is present crudely, as 
for the movements of the object, and for those qualities 
which are connected with the children's own lives. 

Sully thinks that the love of flowers is the nearest 
approach of the child to pure esthetic enjoyment, 
although different qualities attract different children. 
With some the enjoyment is almost entirely one of 
smell; with others, a love of personal adornment. It 
seems to be much the same with very small boys and 
girls, but later the boys learn to despise their leanings 
toward such things. 

In all this, the child follows, in the main, the race 
development: bright or gaudy colors before delicate 
ones, and the utilitarian value of objects before the 
esthetic. This appears again in the fact that few 
children care about landscape beauty. The sublimity 
of mountain or of sea arouses only fear, and the beau- 
tiful and lovely are lost in the child's interest in some 
detail that appeals to him. 

It is said, how truly I do not know, that in Greek 
literature there are very few passages that show any 
esthetic appreciation of nature. The sea is the barren 
sea; the land is much plowed, fertile, wooded, etc., 
the adjectives always pointing to the value to man. 

At first the baby acts like an animal with regard to 
representation of objects. He thinks the reflection in 
Love of ^^^ glass is a real thing, as the animal does 

pictures. the well-painted picture, and as the savage 
thinks that his reflection in the water is his spirit-double. 



DRAWING 



377 



At a v^erv early age, even as early as eight months, 
some children learn to recognize pictures, and they 
reach to them as to realities. The discrimination in 
such cases may be quite fine. Miss Shinn's niece, 
when fourteen months old, picked her father out of a 
group of nine, although the face was scarcely more 
than one-fourth of an inch in diameter. This recogni- 
tion, however, is a very different thing from recogniz- 
ing the picture as a picture, i. c, as a symbol or copy 
only, of no use in itself. Children do not learn this 
nearly as readily. Even at four years we sometimes 
see them trying to feed the picture. One boy at this 
age saw a picture of people going to church. The 
next day on seeing it he exclaimed in surprise because 
they were not yet there. Miss Shinn's niece, at the 
age of three saw a picture of a chamois defending 
her kid from an eagle, and put her hand between 
them to defend the kid. At the age of two she tried 
to lift the painted branch that lay across a lamb in a 
picture. 

We see the same thing in the tendency to consider 
a drama as a reality, in the confusing of the make- 
believe Santa Claus with the real one, etc. Only by slow 
degrees does the child learn to take one object as rep- 
resenting another, and as having no value in itself. 
The use of symbols seems to be an acquired power, 
not a natural one, and at first there is confusion of the 
symbol with the reality for which it stands, in pro- 
portion as the feeling is strong. We see this illus- 
trated again and again in adult life, in religious 
observances. 

Whether children at any given age recognize clearly 
the difference between the picture and the object or 



37« 



THE CHILD 



not, their likes are interesting to us from the stand- 
point of schoolroom decorations. Mr. O'Shea's obser- 
vations, at first glance, are rather discour- 
we'ftreTcL ^ging. He found that the children, as a 
rule, cared nothing for the reproductions of 
classics. Colored pictures, even the crudest chromos, 
and "cunning" pictures — little children and animals 
playing — were always chosen except when Santa Claus 
or the Mother and Child were present. In many cases 
when asked what pictures were in their schoolrooms 
the children would be able to name only one or two 
out of a large number. The others, apparently, had 
made no impression upon them. They were over 
their heads figuratively as well as literally. If this is 
true of children generally, the problem of schoolroom 
decoration is hardly as simple as many people think. 

We are wont to assume that, given the money and a 
knowledge of classical painting and sculpture, a per- 
fectly equipped school will result. I have been in 
several schools that to the adult eye are wonderfully 
artistic in their decorations, considering the scanty 
means at the teacher's disposal. But how much do 
the children get out of it? The same question might 
be asked about many of our kindergarten rooms. 

Now, we are not reduced to nothingness if we do pay 
attention to the children's tastes. There are the 
Madonnas, and the many beautiful pictures of little 
children. In animal life the paintings of Landseer 
and Rosa Bonheur make a good beginning, and there 
are many others. We need not lower our standards of 
the esthetic, but simply change our subjects, accord- 
ing to the interests of the children. If this were care- 
fully carried out, the pictures in the eighth grade room 



DRAWING -5-7Q 

would be quite different in subjects from those of the 
kindergarten, instead of both only reflecting the teach- 
er's tastes. 

A more practical aspect of the liking for pictures is 
brought out by Mr. Lukens. He says that children 
are interested especially in pictures that have stories 
connected with them, and frequently are interested in 
them only when the story is told. He suggests accord- 
ingly, that the pictures in primers should stimulate the 
child's curiosity and so rouse a keen desire to learn 
how to read. 

In considering childish creations or inventions, we 
should properly include much more than their draw- 
ings, but we can only touch upon these 

other things here. All such forms of cws love 
. . 1 , , , , of drawing, 

activity are very closely related to play, in 

so far as they are spontaneous, but in the adult, at 

least, they are distinct from it in that they involve a 

social aspect not essential to play. 

Dewey says that the artist differs from the artisan in 
that he sees in his work its social value, and sees him- 
self as a medium for the expression of social forces. 
That is, the shoemaker who appreciates the social pos- 
sibilities in shoes would become an artist. 

The child at first makes no distinction between the 
fine and the useful arts. Only by degrees does he 
separate the value to himself from the general value; 
the useful from the beautiful. His first activities are 
controlled by his own enjoyment of them and not by 
any results that are objectively useful to him or to 
others. This is play par excellence. So the virtuous 
acts of a child are not virtuous to him, but are repeated 
because they give him the approval of others. It 



38o 



THE CHILD 



would be interesting to find out at what age vanity or 
the love of one's own beauty would develop if it were 
not forced by the talk of the child's elders. One 
would hardly expect it, or the love of pretty clothes as 
such, to appear before adolescence, except in the 
crudest way, in the love for bright things that we have 
already mentioned. 

When we consider what children themselves draw, 
we have one valuable way of discovering their inter- 
What ests. Actually they seem to draw almost 

children everything that they have ever seen, but 

^^^* certain prominent interests also appear. 

The observations that have been made give these 
results: Little children, as a rule, do not draw objects 
that are before them. Of objects that were absent, 45 
per cent drawn between five and six were human figures, 
23 per cent animals, 35 per cent plants and flowers, 32 
per cent houses, 40 per cent still life, 5 per cent con- 
ventional design, 3 per cent ornamental; between 
fourteen and seventeen years ornament and design rose 
to 8 and 37 per cent; human figures made up 5 per 
cent, animals 10 per cent, plants 11 per cent and 
houses 4 per cent. These were drawings made in 
school, and the same things appear in 1232 sponta- 
neous drawings. If we put together all the pictures 
containing human figures, they aggregate nearly three- 
fourths of the entire number. Figures in motion are 
more commonly drawn than figures at rest, and show 
greater ease. 

Mr. O'Shea's observations also confirm these as 
regards ornament. He found that children under five 
never tried to draw the accessories of a figure; 50 per 
cent of those eight years old tried and S/' per cent of 




KlNHKKr.AKTEN PICTURES* 

Character Per cents Character Per cents Character Per cents 

Scenes 15 Series.. I Bears 68 

Fragments 81 Houses 75 Girl 69 

Interiors I Trees 37 Bears and Girl 46 



* About one hundred children from each grade were asked to draw the story of Goldi- 
locks and the Three Bears. This series shows the average of each grade. 



DRAWING 



38. 



those sixteen years old. Miss Flander's observations 
show the same thing. 

Mr. Lukens again presents for our consideration the 
practical value of such spontaneous drawing. He 
advocates it as a harmless method of inoculation 
against real escapades. That is, he appears to think 
that the boy who draws vividly the various scenes in 
the life of Daredevil Dick of Coyote Range will have 
no desire thereafter to run away from home and live 
out some of the adventures about which he has read. 
Possibly a good drawing of himself smoking, swearing, 
etc., will take the place of the reality, and he will 
escape the temptations of craps and playing for keeps 
by picturing his defeat in them! 

However this maybe, there is little doubt that draw- 
ing is often a good test of the child's understanding 
of the words he uses. Doubtless you are familiar 
with the child's pictorial rendering of "The Old 
Oaken Bucket" — a circle for the well; three buckets, 
for the old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, and the 
moss-covered bucket; and a number of dots representing 
the "loved spots that her infancy knew." Again, most 
sketches of Jack and Jill show them as twin brothers. 

In tracing the development of a child's drawing a 
very neat parallel has been worked out between it and 
speech, thus: 

SPEECH DRAWING 

1. Automatic cries and reflex i. Automatic and aimless 
or impulsive sounds. scribble. 

2. Imitation of sounds but 2. Scribbling localizations, 
without meaning. imitation of movement of hands. 

3. Understanding of words 3. Same, with onh^ simplest 
without speaking, except such localization of features by scrib- 
words as names. bling. 



382 THE CHILD 

SPEECH DRAWING 

4. Repetition of words as 4. Copying from others to 
mere sounds when said to him see how to get right effect in 
(brief stage and of little impor- use of lines. 

tance). 5_ Picture writing, illustrated 

5. Use of words to express stories, etc. 

his thoughts. 6. Study of technique of 

6. Study of grammar and drawing, 
rhetoric. 

Baldwin's observations on his daughter have been 

confirmed by later observers, and may be given here 

as illustrating the development outlined 
Scribbling. , t. • • • , 1 • 

above. Beginnmg with the nineteenth and 

extending to the twenty-seventh month, he found that 
the drawing was only the vaguest imitation of the move- 
ment of his hand, no connection being recognized 
between the hand work and the lines. Helen could 
identify the copy, but not her own drawing unless she 
remembered what she had been trying to make. The 
same drawing would serve for a man or an animal, as she 
pleased. Sometimes also a child will begin scribbling 
either aimlessly or with the intention of making some 
object, and will accidentally happen upon some unex- 
pected form. He will then adopt this and copy it again 
and again. For instance, a small boy happened to make 
curls that looked like smoke, whereupon he exclaimed 
in glee, "Puff, puff!" and made more. The only 
development here is in the freedom of movement. 
The lines change from angular straight lines to curves; 
instead of running all one way, reverse movements with 
loops occur, although the lines are almost always hori- 
zontal or sloping slightly to the right like ordinary hand- 
writing. As would be expected, the entire arm is used 
at first and later the wrist and finger movements. 




character Per cents 

Scenes ^5 

Fragments. 65 

Interiors I 



First Grade Picture 

Character Per cents 

Series i 

Houses 84 

Trees 55 



Character Per cents 

Bears 69 

Girl 50 

Bears and Girl ^z 




Character Per cents 

Scenes 88 

Fragments 8 

Interiors 2 



Second Grade Picture 

Character Per cents 

Series o 

Houses 95 

Trees 6s 



Character Per cents 

Bears 61 

Girl 69 

Bears and Giri 39 



Plate II 



DRAWING 



^83 



In the twenty-seventh month Helen got the idea of 
making each part of the figure, and from that time 
there was the attempt to make a copy, to 
follow an idea or object. She saw the con- 
nection between the pencil marks and the thing that 
she wanted to make and now directed her attention to 
the marks instead of to the movements. This is the 
time when drawing or the representation of an object 
really begins. Up to this time the use of the pencil 
has been only a form of exercise; now, it is a 
new language. It shows one interesting feature in 
common with language, and that is, that the first 
drawing tends to stand for all things. Thus Helen 
first drew a man. Later, in drawing birds she put 
into her drawing many of the marks which stood 
for a man. 

In this early work, the children do not appear to 
copy from the object, even when it is before them. 
A child told to copy a man lying down, 

draws him as she draws other men, stand- J^rawwhat 

' _ tney know, 

ing up. She may notice later the discrep- 
ancy, but at the time it does not trouble her at all. 
She draws the object as she knows it, not as she sees 
it, because the picture is a true language to her. Thus 
she shows people through the sides of the houses, and 
all the sides of the house, and the legs of the chair, 
etc., regardless of the actual appearance. 

A child has little or no technique, and so simplifies 
many things until the drawing seems to be little more 
than a symbol of the object; but that it is not sym- 
bolic to him is shown by his putting in striking details 
to identify particular persons or things. He has no 
sense of proportion or perspective. Men are taller 

25 



384 



THE CHILD 



than houses, birds and dogs are of the same size, and 
all appear in one plane. 

Barnes thinks that this lack of unity in the picture is 
due to the fact that the child thinks in very small 
units, and fails to look at the picture as a whole. He 
draws the outside of the house, then, going on with his 
story, he shows the people doing various things inside 
the house, forgetting about the outside. It comes out 
again in the fact that often a child will repeat some 
detail in the story again and again without seem- 
ing to notice the rest. One child drew twenty-six 
Johnnies in "Johnnie Guck in Die Luft" and nothing- 
else. 

Almost without exception the first pictures are out- 
lines or diagrams, not mass drawings. Whether they 

are symbolic and conventional, or diagram- 
outlines. .'. -^ri- - C114.U-1 

matic IS a point of dispute. Sully thinks 
that they very soon become conventional, that the 
child adopts a certain outline for man, another for 
trees, etc., and sticks to it regardless of the various 
kinds of men and trees that he knows. Lukens, on 
the other hand, regards this, when it occurs, as a case 
of arrested development and to be deprecated. If the 
child is allowed to develop freely, he thinks that there 
will be a progress in the production of natural effects. 
I am inclined to agree with Mr. Lukens on this, and I 
feel sure that what Mr. Sully says is true, that many 
children are really led into this conventionalism by our 
very methods of teaching. One mass appearance repre- 
sents apple-trees, another pines; and we teachers fre- 
quently do not know enough to appreciate an individual 
apple-tree when the budding Corot gives us one, but 
condemn him to draw apple-trees in general. 




Character 

Scenes 

Fragments. 
Interiors.. . 



cents 
■ 85 



TuiKi) GuADE Picture 

Character Per cents 

Series 8 

Houses 86 

Trees 85 



Character Per cents 

Bears 46 

Girl 72 

Bears and Girl 28 




Fourth Grade Picture 



Character Per cents 

Scenes 84 

Fragments 007 

Interiors 12 



Character Per cents 

Series j 

Houses 86 

Trees 83 



Character Per cents 

Bears 34 

Girl 77 

Bears and Girl 23 Plate III 



DRAWING 



385 



We have already seen that the object most often 
chosen by the children is the human figure. In draw- 
ing this, they begin with the full view of 

the head. At first only eves and mouth ^/^T?!'^ 

-^ ' of a man. 

are put into it, and the body is a mere jum- 
ble of lines. Later, arms and legs are added to the 
head, and after a time a body appears, but even then 
the arms may come out of the head for some time. 
Barnes found that full faces predominated until the 
age of nine, and then profiles. In the transition 
stage, the profile may be drawn with two eyes and 
ears. As we should expect, with right-handed children 
the profiles and animals face to the left, and the child 
draws the animal from the head back. 

In the drawing of horses, the observations of Miss 
Caroline Flanders* show these percentages: For first 
grade children, six to seven y^ 

years old, 30 per cent turn to [V * [ 

the right, 65 percent to the left, ^^ // /( 

and 12/3 per cent to the front; ^,,^^^^^^ ,^ ,^ ^^^^^^,^^^ ^ 
58 per cent are profile; 12^^ hokse twenty -five per 

. r 1 1 r . Cent of the Children be- 

per cent_ full face; 25 per cent .^.^^^^^ 3,^ ^^^^ 3^^.^^ p^^,. 
are ambiguous creatures. (See duce ambiguous creatures 

D^ \ -^ ,1 Like This. 

lagram 14.) 73 percent have 

eyes; 517^ per cent nose; 60 per cent mouth; 58 per 

cent ears; 85 per cent tail; i6^^3 per cent mane;* 31^3 

per cent hair; 96 per cent legs, varying in number from 

one to four. 

Goldilocks was drawn by the kindergarten children, 

22 per cent of the drawings facing left; 13 per cent 

front; 36 per cent right; 7 per cent back. In the 

* Unpublished data on 1,000 Chicago school children from kin- 
dergarten through eighth grade. 



1^g6 THE CHILD 

second grade fewer faced front, and more sideways; 
and in the seventh and eighth grades most faced to 
the left. Joints were first drawn by fourth grade 
children. 

In the illustrating of stories, Earl Barnes found that 

freedom in drawing, as shown by the number of scenes, 

increases up to the age of thirteen, and 

Drawing then decreases to sixteen. All the chil- 

of stories. , , i i- , i , • 

dren who declmed to draw were over thir- 
teen. Here again we find the self-consciousness of 
adolescence, the feeling of inability in the presence of 
new ideals. 

In all cases, the children prefer large, distinct fig- 
ures, especially for the hero. In the story of Johnnie, 
the little boy is often made much larger than the men 
who rescue him. We have a nice analogy here in the 
Greek custom of representing heroes and gods as 
larger than ordinary men. 

We find a similar case in the exaggerations given to 
details which are prominent in the child's mind. A 
pair of glasses will dominate the entire picture; a 
watch chain will spread over the whole front; vest 
buttons of heroic proportions will appear, or some 
characteristic attitude will be represented in its 
extreme. The child is an unconscious caricaturist. 
One curious fact here is that the catastrophe is not 
drawn nearly as often as the scenes just preceding and 
following it. Mr. Barnes lays this to a sense in the 
children like that in adults, which leads them to enjoy 
most the suspense, and afterwards the pleasure of 
rescuing the lucky hero. It seems that one may fairly 
question this explanation, though it is difficult to offer 
a satisfactory one in its place. We can hardly think 




character Per cents 

Scenes 84 

Fragments o 

Interiors 15 



Fifth Grade Pictuke 

Character Per cents 

Series o 

Houses 85 

Trees 77 



Character Per cents 

Bears 28 

Girl 64 

Bears and Girl 9 



Character Per cents 

Scenes 61 

Fragments zo 

Interiors 17 



Sixth Grade Picture 

Character Per cents 

Series ... o 

Houses 5S 

Trees 59 



Character Per cents 

Bears 36 

Girl 58 

Bears and Girl 22. 



Plate IV' 



DRAWING 



387 



the children would consider the catastrophe too diffi- 
cult. Perhaps it may seem too complicated to attract 
them. 

The observations made by Miss Flanders upon one 
thousand children from four to fifteen years old, who 
drew the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, 
confirm Professor Barnes', and add some further inter- 
esting details. Many of the drawings were 

with colored chalks, which the children Experiment 

. . I -u with story of 

preferred when given a choice, and with Goldilocks. 

which they drew better than with black and 

white. In the kindergarten, most of the children use 

lines instead of mass; a few mass, and a few both. In 

the first grade, where instruction in drawing begins, 

the figures are almost equally divided between the 

two; and beyond the first grade, mass is used nearly 

always, showing the effect of instruction. This again 

leads to the conclusion that children naturally draw in 

line, even when given a medium like crayon, that 

lends itself to mass; but that they can soon be taught 

to see and draw in mass. 

The effect of the teacher upon the children also 
comes out very distinctly in these papers. Where the 
teachers like drawing the children are freer in expres- 
sion, improve more rapidly, and enjoy the work better. 

The gradual changes in the pictures from kindergar- 
ten through eighth grade drawings are shown in the 
series running through this chapter. The fig- 
ures with each picture show the percentage anl^sce^s^ 
of children in that grade who drew essen- 
tially the same picture, and also the variations from 
it. The remarkable thing about these pictures is their 
uniformity of scene. Why do the children choose a 



^gg THE CHILD 

scene which is really so little connected with the story? 
Why do they take a landscape instead of an interior? 

In the second grade, sky and ground are shown as 
meeting; before that, with a space between. There 
were very few series of drawings, probably because the 
children have not been shown how to draw in that 
way. In the higher grades more detail appears in the 
drawings. Throughout, the details are copied from 
what the children see about them — a peculiar style of 
window; high stair in front of the house; family por- 
traits on the walls. The totals of Miss Flander's work 
are seen in the following summary. 

All the pictures have houses: lo per cent in mass; 
80 per cent in line; 9 per cent in both; 14 per cent 
transparent; 5 per cent with doors; 12 per cent with 
knobs; 2 per cent with door panels; 69 per cent with 
windows; 6 per cent with curtains; 65 per cent with 
chimneys; 41 per cent with smoke. 

Sixty-eight per cent have trees: 9 per cent in line, 
73 per cent in mass, and 16 per cent in both; 34 per 
cent have forests, and i per cent flowers. 

Sky and ground are shown by 65 per cent, ground 
alone by 15 per cent, and sky alone by less than i per 
cent. 

Bears are shown by 47 per cent; with bear shapes 2^ 
per cent, human shape 20 per cent, animal shape 21 
per cent. Their faces are: profile 55 per cent, full 23 
per cent, double 21 per cent. Of features, 20 per cent 
have eyes, 45 per cent tails, 9 per cent arms. 

Goldilocks is drawn by 66 per cent. She is allowed 
head, neck, body, skirt and feet by 33. ' per cent; head, 
body and feet by 5V per cent; head, skirt and feet by 
10^ per cent; head, body, skirt and feet by 68^^ per 




Charact<r Per cents 

Scenes 45 

Fragments 9 

Interiors 9 



Sevexth Grade Pictike 

Character Per cents 

Series. . . 56 

Houses 70 

Trees 70 



Character Per cents 

Bears 61 

Ciirl 7? 

Bears and Girl 46 




Character Per cents 

Scenes 52 

Fragments 18 

Interiors 20 



Eighth Grade Picture 

Character Per cents 

Series 9 

Houses 68 

Trees , ,,,, 64 



Character Per cents 

Bears 27 

Girl 56 

Bears and Girl 14 



Plate ^ 



DRAWING 



389 



cent; head and skirt only by 2*k per cent; full face in 
22/^ per cent; doubtful outlines in 41/^ per cent. 

As to features, she is allowed eyes by 23/^ per cent; 
nose by 2\y^ per cent; mouth by 19/^ per cent; ears by 
I per cent, and hair by 47/^ per cent; feet by 76 per 
cent; shoes by 33 per cent; arms by 50 per cent; hands 
by 9^ per cent; fingers by 5>^ per cent. 

Certain conclusions are easily reached on the basis 
of these facts. It is evident that drawing should begin 
with the human figure as a whole and not figures vs 
with conventional designs, and should only conventional 
by degrees work up to the analysis involved ^^^s^s- 
in the latter. The method of using drawing, to illus- 
trate stories, scenes from child life, etc., is to be com- 
mended instead of a conventional course in drawing. 

Ruskin laments the devotion of the school to geo- 
metrical forms. He says: "A great draughtsman can, 
so far as I have observed, draw every line but a straight 
one. When the child longs to turn out men, dogs, 
cars, horses, heroes, etc., he is showing his freedom; 
but he is bidden to draw a straight line, a curve or the 
like. When nature intended him to be as yet a 
player, an artist only, the school seeks to make him a 
geometrician; when he desires to make many lines, he 
is confined to one; when he endeavors to produce a 
whole, it seeks to make him produce parts only. 
Neither the child nor primitive man begins with a 
geometric line — it is in a scribble that the history of 
graphic art lies hid." 

These facts would also lead us to conclude that chil- 
dren draw naturally in outline instead of in mass, and 
that shadow, etc., should be introduced by degrees as 
the child learns to separate knowledge from sight. It 



390 



THE CHILD 



can hardly be said that all these children would use 
outline naturally if there were not some reason for it. 
Technique should be introduced slowly. Probably by 
the age of nine most children will appreciate some 
help in this direction. 

Too often children are simply taught certain tech- 
nical tricks, but are not taught to observe, with the 
result that high school boys and girls draw no better 
than those in the third grade. Back of all drill in 
technique must be the observant and interested mind 
striving to express an idea. So above all things we 
must take care not to destroy a child's spontaneous 
love for drawing by making him self-conscious and 
distrustful. The ideal thing would be for us all to 
draw as easily as we write, when it will serve our turn, 
and there is no reason why we should not if given the 
proper training. 

REFERENCES 

Amberg, J. D. R. Drawing in General Education. Education, 
Vol. XIV., 268. 

Baily, H. T. A First Year in Drawing. Report on Drawing 
(Industrial) \n^8th Ann. Kept, of Mass. Board of Educa- 
tion (1893 and 1894). 

Baldwin, J. Mark. Mental Development, Methods and Proc- 
esses, 50-57, 81-96. N. Y. Macmillan, $3.00. 

Balfour, H. Evolution of Decorative Art. 

Barnes E. Studies in Education. See Index. Chicago. Uni- 
versity of Chicago Press. 
Study of Children's Drawings. Ped. Sem., 1892, 455-463- 

Barrett, H. V. Drawing in Elementary Schools. Mag. of Art, 
Vol. VIII., pp. 326, 425. 

Brown, E. E. Art in Education. Proc. N. E. A., 1899, 112-121. 
(Pictures, tragic and comic, for the schools. General.) 
Notes on Children's Drawings. U. of Cal. Studies, Vol. II. 
(Good.) 



DRAWING 



391 



Clark, A. B. Child's Attitude toward Perspective Problem. 

Barjies' s Studies in Ed., pp. 283-2g4. Chicago. University 

of Chicago Press. 
Clark, J. S. Children's Drawing. Educ. Rev., 1897, Vol. XIII., 

76-82. 
Cooke, E. Art Teaching and Child Nature. Jour, of Educ, 

December, 1885, and January, 1886. 
Coole, E. The A. B. C. of Drawing. Special Rept. of Educ. 

Dept. of Gr. Britain. London, 1897. 
Dewey, John. Imagination and Expression — the Psychology 

of Drawing. Chicago. Kgn. Lib. Co., $0.15. 
ElemefUary School Record. Number on Art. Chicago. 

Univ. of Chicago Press, $0.17. 
Fitz, H. G. Freehand Drawing in Education. Pop. Sc. Mo., 

October, 1897, 755-765. 
Gallagher, Margaret. Children's Spontaneous Drawings. A^. W. 

Mo., 1897, 130-134. 
Herrick, Mary A. Children's Drawings. Ped. Sem., 1S94-6, 

338-339- 
Hicks, Mary Dana. Color in Public Schools. Proc. N. E. A., 

1894, 906-915. 
Art in Early Education. Ped. Seni., 1892, 463-466. 
Hogan, Louise. Study of a Child. Harper's Mo., June, 1898. 
Locker, J. C. With What Should Drawing Begin ? Proc. Intern. 

Cojig. Ed., p. 491, N. Y. , 1894. 
Lukens, H. T. Drawing. Proc. N. E. A., 1899, 945-51. 

Children's Drawings in Early Years. Ped. Sem., 1896-7, 

79-110. (Gives pictures. Good.) 
Maitland, M. L. What Children Draw to Please Themselves. 

Inlaiid Ed. Vol. I. 
Eskimo Drawings. N. W. Mo., June, 1899, 443-450. 
Mason, W. A. Psychology of the Object. Education, Vol. XV. 
O'Shea, M. V. Children's Expression through Drawing, Proc. 

N. E. A., 1897, 1015-23. (Good.) 
Some Aspects of Drawing. Ed. Rev., October, 1897, Vol. 

XIV., 263-284. (General.) 
Parker, F. W. Talks on Pedagogics. Chapter X. Chicago. 

Flanagan, $1.50. 
Pedagogical Seminary, 1S91, 445-447. Notes on Children's 

Drawings. 



392 



THE CHILD 



Perez, B. Z'^r/ et la potsie chez I' enfant. Chapter on Drawing. 

Paris. Alcan, $i.oo. 
Plessy. Typical Children's Drawings and Some Conclusions. 

Applied Art Book, October, 1901, Vol. I., 12-19. 
Ricci. C. Summary of His Work. Ped. Sem., 1894-6, pp. 302-7. 
Rooper, T. G. Drawing in Infant Schools. N. Y. Kellogg, 

$0.15. 
Runcinan, J. Drawing in London Board Schools. Mag. of Art, 

Vol. VIII., 218. 
Schnieder, H. G. Drawing in the New York City Public 

Schools. Education, Vol. XVII., 304. 
Shinn, Milicent. Notes on the Development of a Child. U. of 

Cat. Studies, Vol. I. , p. 96. 
Spencer, Herbert. Education. N. Y. Appleton, $1.25. 
Sully, James. Studies of Childhood. Chapter on Art. N. Y. 

Appleton, $2.50. 
Warren, S. E. Industrial Drawing as an Element of Industrial 

Education. Education, Yo\. IV., 367. 
Woolner, T. Value of Drawing. Mag. of Art, Vol. XV. 



CHAPTER XIX 

Play 

1. Get data from children of all grades in fall, win- 
ter, spring and summer, as to the play that observa- 
they like the best of all. ^ions. 

2. Get data about clubs and societies that are formed 
and managed without adult encouragement and aid. 

3. Keep records as to the plays of little children. 

4. Collect accounts of plays and games used in formal 
education, stating the purpose for which they are used 
^nd how far they accomplish the purpose. 

In taking up the subject of play, we shall find many 
connections with the topics previously discussed. Play 
seems to be to a large extent the form in 
which childish ideas express themselves. hfpiay^^^ 
It is to the child what his life-work is to 
the man, and shows therefore most clearly what his 
nature is when left to himself. On this account obser- 
vation of the free play of children is of great assistance 
to a teacher in learning their true characteristics. 

Even from the earliest times there have been edu- 
cators who differed from the Hinterschlag professor. 
This worthy man knew of the soul only "that it had a 
faculty called memory and could be acted upon 
through the muscular integument by the application of 
birch rods." On the other hand, 2300 years ago Plato 
said: "The plays of children have the mightiest 
influence on the maintenance of laws — from the first 

393 



;94 



THE CHILD 



years of childhood, their plays ought to be subject to 
laws, for if they are arbitrary and lawless, how can 
children ever become virtuous men, abiding by law?" 
Aristotle advised that the children before five years of 
age "should be taught nothing lest it hinder growth, 
but should be accustomed to use much motion — and 
this can be acquired by various means, among others 
by play, which ought to be neither too illiberal nor too 
laborious nor lazy." Luther tells us that "Solomon 
did not prohibit scholars from play at the proper time. 
A young man shut up (without recreation) is like a 
young tree which ought to bear fruit but is planted in 
a pot. " 

Locke asserts that "the gamesome humor of child- 
hood which is wisely adapted by nature to its age and 
temper, should be encouraged, to keep up their spirits 
and improve their health and strength. The chief art 
is to make all that children have to do, sport and 
pla}'." He invented games for teaching reading, and 
suggested others. Richter in his Levana says that 
"activity alone can bring and hold serenity and hap- 
piness. Unlike our games, the plays of children are 
the expressions of serious activity, although in light, 
airy dress. Play is the first poetical (creative) utter- 
ance of man." Schiller says, "Man is man only when 
he plays." 

Finally Froebel, in the Education of Man, says: 

"Play is the highest phase of the child development — 

for it is self-attentive representation of the 

Froebel on inner life from inner necessity and impulse. 
play. " . ^ . . 

Play is the purest, most spiritual activity of 

man, at this stage, and at the same time typical of 

human life as a whole,— of the inner, hidden, natural life 



PLAY 



395 



in man and all things. It gives joy, freedom, content- 
ment, inner and outer rest, peace with the world. It 
holds the sources of all that is good. A child that 
plays thoroughly, with self-active determination, will 
surely be a thorough, determined man, capable of self- 
sacrifice for the promotion of the welfare of himself 
and others. The spontaneous play of the child dis- 
closes the future inner life of the man. If the child is 
injured at this period, if the germinal leaves of the 
future tree of his life are marred at this time, he will 
only with the greatest difficulty and the utmost effort 
grow into strong manhood." 

More recent study and observation have served only 
to emphasize these utterances and to show in detail 
their truth. Spencer tells us that all education, so far 
as it is true, tends to revert to play, and Preyer com- 
pares the child's play, in its value to him, to the work 
of the learned man. 

The distinction between play and work is a difficult 
one to draw. It is evidently not merely in the acts, 
nor in their result; to Tom Sawyer, white- 
washing the fence was the hardest sort Play and 

'^ , work, 

of drudgery, but he made it into play for his 

boy friends and made them pay him for the privilege 
of playing at it. Again, if a boy has to play marbles 
when he wants to go to a fire, the play becomes work. 
We often say that if we had to do as work what we 
play at — camping out, making century runs, etc., we 
should consider ourselves much abused. It is not 
alone the amount of effort, therefore, or the fact of 
having a definite end, that makes an activity work 
instead of play. It seems to be rather that the activity 
is pleasurable and spontaneous; that there is no 



\g6 



THE CHILD 



external or internal compulsion laid upon the player. 
Play in- this sense includes all truly artistic work. It 
is not the opposite of work but the best way of doing 
work. It is working in the spirit of love, instead of in 
the spirit of duty. And yet we distinguish such work 
from play in that it does, after all, go beyond itself in 
the artist's appreciation of the ethical and social value 
of his art. 

Shut out play from work, and we get weariness and 
stupidity, we exclude growth, physical, intellectual 
and moral. The child who does not like play is 
abnormal. He is sick or stupid. He ought not to 
prefer to sit in his seat when the others are romping. 
Such a child is very likely to exhibit some of the signs 
of nervousness described in the first chapter, or signs 
of poor nutrition — either not enough food or else not 
the right kind. A distinction should also be made 
between games and play. All games are play, but not 
all plays are games. Games are organized, system- 
atized play, and involve more than one child. 

Groos in his theory of play, considers the physi- 
Theoryof ological, biological and psychological fac- 
piay. tors, in order to get a complete theory. 

There are two principles to which we must refer for 
a physiological theory of play, vis.^ the discharge of 
1 Thephys- surplus energy and the recreation of ex- 
ioiogicai hausted powders. The first is likely to 

standpoint. Q^cur when, through rest or disuse, any set 
of organs has stored up more force than it needs, which 
force, therefore, tends to find an outlet in any con- 
venient direction. The second happens when we are 
tired of mental or physical labor, but still do not need 
rest, and so turn to the change and recreation given by 



PLAY 39^ 

play. In both cases, a play so begun may be carried 
to the point of exhaustion, because any movement set 
up in the body tends to repeat itself and to produce a 
trance-like condition which is irresistible. 

The first overflow of energy is illustrated in the 
activity of a little child in the morning, when he jumps, 
skips, etc., from good spirits; the recreation, in his 
later conduct, when he turns from one play to another. 
In both cases, he may continue until he is tired out. 

Such a theory is satisfactory for certain forms of 
play, but it leaves untouched the question of why the 
surplus energy and recreation take the particular 
forms that they do, and must therefore be supple- 
mented from the biological standpoint. 

We do not find the play instinct in animals that have 

to support themselves from birth. It develops in 

proportion as the animal is freed from the „ „. ^. 

, . ^ , . ^ 2. mo DIO- 

serious duties of life. The highly-devel- logical 

oped animals are the most unfit to provide standpoint, 
for themselves at birth, are the most plastic or educa- 
ble, and require the longest period of infancy or care- 
taking. These animals are also the most playful. We 
do not think of an oyster, and hardly of a chick as 
playing. But colts, puppies, kittens, are all playful, 
while the child is the player par excellence, and play 
is a large part of his training for life. 

The superfluous energy and the desire tor recreation 
find the easiest outlets through the channels of instincts, 
and thus not only recapitulate race experience, but 
serve the useful function of being an important form 
of organic exercise. It seems to be true that the 
spontaneous actions of play are the same as those 
which the child will need later to use seriouslv. We 



398 



THE CHILD 



find plays varying in different species of animals, 
according to their instincts. Thus a puppy plays 
vigorously at biting, fighting, etc., in his way, and so is 
trained for actual fighting later. A kitten plays very 
differently from a puppy, but its play serves equally 
well to prepare it for its life. Children in like man- 
ner play according to the way their ancestors have 
acted. The channels worn by ages of use are the 
easiest ones through which superfluous energy can 
escape, and so both the spontaneous and the imitative 
tendencies tend to the reproduction of racial activities, 
hunting of animals, sham fights, and so on. The 
believers in the culture-epoch theory put here also the 
plays of tent life, cave life, pastoral life, which most 
children go through at some time. Some of the games 
based on the hunting instinct are games of chase, like 
tag; games of searching, -like hide-and-seek; games of 
hurling, like quoits. Based on the fighting instinct are 
games of contest, like football; and all that bring out 
emulation, like racing. 

The element of imitation doubtless enters into all 
these plays, but unless they appealed to some natural 
tendencies they would not be imitated. In the various 
kindergarten plays we find an attempt to make this 
tendency regularly serviceable in education. 

Now all these plays which thus reproduce race activi- 
ties are of value also because they provide a large 
amount of exercise for the child, and so aid greatly in 
bodily control. As they reproduce adult activities, 
however crudely, they train the muscles for those 
activities. The girl in her playhouse is learning how 
to handle the household utensils carefully. The boy 
in his baseball and running games gains a fleetness and 



PLAY 



399 



readiness that are serviceable in all but the most 
sedentary occupations. There is no part of the body 
left undeveloped by the plays of children. Ordinarily 
also, this exercise can be secured in no other way. 
Gymnastics are not comparable with free play, for they 
exercise only certain sets of muscles and the same sets 
for all children, whereas free play allows each child to 
exercise the least used muscles, and also relieves the 
strain of attention. Further, because children do not 
enjoy gymnastics especially, they do them only under 
direction, and do not get as much exercise as from free 
play. Gymnastics are, of course, valuable when chil- 
dren do not get plays that exercise all the muscles, or 
when they are deformed or developed unsymmetri- 
cally; but, says one writer, the finest type of physical 
man is not produced by the gymnasia or the palaestra, 
but by games — rowing and running, football and base- 
ball, golf, tennis, etc. The movement for playgrounds 
in the city thus assumes as great an importance as the 
securing of gymnasia, especially because the children 
do not get an^^ of the natural opportunities for exercise 
either in work or in play that the country and village 
children get. 

When we approach the question of the mental state 
of the playing child, one of the most prominent factors 
is his acceptance of an illusion, his playing g The psy- 
of a part. The girl who makes a doll out choiogicai 
of a sofa-pillow and the boy who plays sol- standpoint, 
dier, know that they are "making believe," and yet 
accept the pretense with delight. Lange calls it a 
conscious self-deception, in which a period of illusion 
follows a moment of readjustment. The combination 
of the two is seen in laughing boys in a sham fight. 

26 



400 



THE CHILD 



Groos believes that the delight in the illusion is due 
to the feeling of freedom in accepting the illusion and 
joy in being the cause of it. The child is guarded 
from error by the subconsciousness that he himself 
created the thing, and so plays joyously with it as if it 
were a reality. Such plays pass by slow transitions 
into artistic creation and invention, in which the sense 
of unreality is replaced by belief in their truth and 
their social value. 

Much of what is called play in babies ana little 
children is rather an experimenting with the senses 
First play an ^^^ motor apparatus for the sake of the 
experiment- new feelings thus produced. Such plays 
^^^" are based directly upon the instinctive 

demand of these organs for activity, and are lacking in 
the factor of illusion which we have just mentioned. 
They serve the biological purpose already mentioned. 
Numerous illustrations of this might be given from 
every sense. 

1. Touch. Very early in life a baby enjoys stroking, 
and seeks to put everything into his mouth. The lat- 
ter is done not only when the child is hungry but when 
he has just been fed, and is enjoyed for the contact 
with the lips, tongue, etc. In the bath, he gets 
various sensations by splashing. The baby explores 
his body, handles all he can reach, and in every way 
plays with the touch sensations. 

2. Temperature. The seeking of a stinging air, a 
cool breeze, a hot sun, not so much to relieve any 
discomfort as to enjoy them, are instances of play 
here. 

3. Taste. The love of having something in the 
mouth — candy, gum, a clove, an olive stone, tobacco — 



PLAY 



401 



testifies to the playful use we all make of touch. 
Even a stone or a tasteless bit of beeswax satisfies 
some people when they can get nothing better. The 
intention in such cases is not, of course, to satisfy 
hunger, but simply to get new sensations. 

4. Smell. We do not find play so much in evidence 
here, although sometimes children do play games that 
call into use the sense of smell. 

5. Hearing. We spoke at some length of hearing, 
under the head of music. Here we have only to note 
that these first sounds that are heard and produced 
with so much pleasure, are to the child a form of play. 
He listens and reproduces, makes up rhymes, and 
repeats his chain rhymes, Mother Goose, and so on, in 
a spontaneous enjoyment that asks for nothing more. 
He is not limited to his own voice, but rattles and 
shakes and tears anything that he can get hold of, to 
satisfy his insatiable ear. 

6. Light. The same is true of sight. Whether it 
is merely the enjoyment of brightness and color, or 
the more complex delight in forms and in objects, 
a child is constantly seeking to produce a new expe- 
rience or to repeat a pleasurable old one. 

7. Playful movemejits of the bodily organs. All this 
play with the senses involves movement, but we find 
the child also experimenting in all sorts of ways with 
his hands and legs and head, putting them into all 
sorts of positions and enjoying himself immensely. In 
course of time he learns to run and walk, and then we 
can see plainly his play in jumping, stamping, rowing, 
taking difficult steps, climbing and giving himself a 
thousand tests of skill. He does not limit himself to 
his own body, either, but takes possession of anything 



402 



THE CHILD 



upon which he can exercise his muscles. He tears 
paper, shakes keys and all noisy objects, splashes 
water, and so on 

Considerable observation has been made of chil- 
dren's free play with a view to seeing just what they 
do when left alone. Many nationalities 

ZfJH^^ ^ and classes have been observed with the 

plays. 

interesting result that children of the same 
age, whatever their nationality, or social class, play 
essentially the same games and plays. The names 
may differ, but certain characteristics are common to 
all. As we should expect, the plays of little children 
of the kindergarten age are much more imitative than 
those of older children. Playing family and store are 
by far the most popular both with girls and boys, and 
in these plays the home life is reproduced, often with 
startling fidelity. Playing church comes next to 
these, but it is played only about one-third as much as 
the others. 

In observations made on twenty-nine kindergarten 
children, five to six years old, it was found that in their 
plays they divided spontaneously into four groups. 
The first group consisted of the older boys. Their 
plays contained much action and imagination. In 
three months thirty-one dramatic plays were observed, 
such as policeman, fireman, store. 

The second group was made up of the older girls. 
Their plays were also dramatic, but quieter than the 
boys. Playing house and school were the great 
favorites. 

The third consisted of the smaller children and 
older bashful girls. They played simple games, but 
spent most of their time in rushing from one to the 



PLAY 



403 



other of the other groups as they were attracted b}' the 
^ames going on. 

The fourth group consisted of the left-overs, list- 
less children, who did not seem to care for any game, 
and spent most of their time in the swing. 

All these plays are imitative rather than inventive. 
It is interesting to notice that usually the same play is 
played on consecutive days, the interest shifting only 
by degrees. Thus, if house is played on one day, it is 
likely to be played for a while the next day. That 
day another game may be introduced also, and this 
will be likely to survive the next day and so on. Some 
plays are played almost every day, but what shifting 
there is, is of this gradual nature. 

The particular play chosen seemed to be selected 
either because the children liked it very much, or 
l^ecause some child of strong personality forced his 
liking upon the others even if they did not care for the 
play. The latter was not at all an uncommon occur- 
rence. * 

Children below^ seven years of age rarely play games 
unless stimulated by older children or b}- adults. 
Their plays are individualistic and non- 
competitive. The question has been raised Characterof 
. , , r 11 11-1 plays of little 

seriously, thereiore, w^hether the kmdergar- children. 

ten should force cooperation upon its chil- 
dren; w^hether it is not urging them into a stage which 
they are not yet ready for. Froebel himself, it is 
urged, says that boyhood, rather than childhood, is 
the time when the unity with others comes to con- 
sciousness, and that childhood is the time for learn- 
ing to perceive things as distinct. The feeling of 
unity is vague and the tendency is toward defining 



404 



THE CHILD 



percepts and ideas, making them distinct rather than 

related. 

The kindergarten period up to the second dentition 

is especially the toy period. The plays usually center 

about some object upon which numerous 

Play with imasfininp;s can be based, the doll, the 
toys. fe fc> ' 

engine, etc. But it is not at all essential 
that the toy should be an elaborate one. It is better 
for a child to be supplied with plenty of material, such 
as blocks and sand, from which he can make many 
things, and with some simple toys, than to have 
expensive mechanisms which he can not shape to his 
will. He ought to be able to take any toy to pieces 
and put it together again without injury to it. 

Almost anything will serve a child for a toy, when 
he is left to his own inventions — flowers and leaves, 
twigs, berries, grass, bits' of glass and china, iron, 
cloth, etc. — anything that will serve as a peg for his 
fancy. 

It is noticeable, however, that when children make 
toys, they usually only copy — making sleds, hammers, 
axes, etc. 

The universal toy is, of course, the doll, upon which 
both the invention and imitation of the child expend 
themselves to the utmost. We find from 
Dr. Hall's article that children prefer dolls 
of certain materials, thus: wax, 22 per cent; paper, 19 
per cent; china, 18 per cent; rag, 17 per cent; bisque, 
12 per cent; china and cloth, gyi per cent; rubber, 8 
per cent. But lacking these, they substitute: pillows, 
4>^ per cent; sticks, 3 per cent; bottles, 2>^ per cent; 
dogs, 2 per cent; cats or kittens, i]^ per cent; shawls, 
2^ per cent; flowers, i per cent; clothes-pins, i per 



PLAY 40^ 

cent, to say nothing of such things as toy washboards 
or wringers in isolated cases. 

Any size from 4 to 12 inches suits, but blondes with 
curly hair and eyes that open and shut are preferred. 
Babies are liked best before five years, and children 
after that time. 

The mental qualities that are attributed to these first 
children are as varied as the human nature that the 
child knows. It is an interesting question how far a 
child really believes that the doll can feel, be good, 
jealous, and so on, and how far he is conscious of its 
lifelessness. In feeding a doll, for instance, i>^ per 
cent maintain that the doll really is hungry and the 
same number are in doubt; 2 per cent declare that the 
doll never is hungry while the great majority either 
feed the doll or touch the food to her mouth and then 
eat it themselves. In such cases there is a conscious- 
ness of the play, although a child may be really dis- 
tressed over the doll's cold or sickness. 

Among the qualities ascribed to dolls the most com- 
mon are: goodness, 27 per cent; cold, 24 per cent; 
inability to love, 22 per cent; weariness, 21 per cent; 
hunger, 21 per cent; badness, 16 per cent; jealousy, 8>^ 
per cent; hatred, 7 per cent; ability to sleep, 37 per cent. 
The love of dolls appears to reach its height in 
the ninth year although strong from the third year 
to the twelfth. Many girls play with dolls until they 
go into long dresses and are ridiculed for their love of 
it; and not a few ladies confess to the existence of the 
passion. Dr. Hall questions whether this love is as 
closely connected with the maternal instinct as we 
commonly suppose, citing in proof of his statement the 
fact that many girls who were very fond of dolls, do 



4o6 



THE CHILD 



not, as women, care much for children, and vice \^ersa. 
This may be true in isolated cases, but still play is so 
evidently an imitation of the mother, prompted by 
instinct, that we must have more than a few contrary 
instances to invalidate this belief. 

During the second dentition, when the association- 
fibers of the brain are developing rapidly, the plays of 
Plays of children undergo as marked a change as 

older chii- their other activities do. There is first a 
^®°' period of dramatic play, which serves to 

connect the toy period with the next, and then the 
plays involve much violent exercise and become highly 
competitive in character and much more varied. Hide- 
and-seek, is played by only 8 per cent of boys seven 
years old and by 55 per cent of boys ten years old. 

The interest in traditional games — hide-and-seek, 
tag, prisoner's base, fox and hounds, etc. — most of 
which involve violent exercise and competition, reaches 
its height in the tenth year. This is also the period 
when the love of animals and the desire to possess 
them are most prominent. If it is feasible, this desire 
should be gratified and the child taught to take th« 
responsibility of feeding them. Such a care is a valu- 
able training in kindness and unselfishness, and teaches 
a child to estimate more correctly the kindness of his 
parents in taking care of him. 

Certain differences between boys and girls appear in 
the ten thousand children observed. As a rule, the 
girls' games are quieter than the boys', 
girts' plays. ^^^>' P^^>' ^ greater variety of games, and 
they do not organize as the boys do. Foot- 
ball and baseball are overwhelmingly the favor- 
ites with boys, while with girls no one game has 



PLAY 



407 



anything like that popularity. Again, no girls took 
part in the play with the sandpile, except occasion- 
ally, and they do not organize societies as boys do. 

The following tables show the relative prominence 
of games and of clubs at different ages. The names at 
the top indicate the authority for the figures given. 
Percentages are given in all cases. The two figures 
indicate the per cents at the two age limits. 



T. R. Croswell. 
1000 boys, 
1000 girls. 

Kindergarten- 
High school 



Playing House .... 

Playing School. . . . 

Playing Horse 

Playing War 

Play with dolls. . . 
With doll furniture 

With teaset 

With doll carriage 

With leaves 

With flowers 

Books and reading 

Music 

Cards 

Checkers 

Dominoes 

Hide-and-seek. . - 

Ball 

Baseball 

Running games, . . 

Fox - hounds, foot- 
ball, tag, etc 

Games of rivalry . . 

Games with coop- 
eration 

Croquet 

Rhythm and mo- 
tion 



Boys Girls Both 



6-5 

7-ro 
16-2 

4-i 

o 



7h-h 
3-tV 



16-3 

27-8 
18-4 

8 at 

55 at 
12-28 



36I- 

51 

25-3 

4-1% 

26-23 



8- 


% 


24-7 


23 


•8 


II 


.3 


lu- 


iV 


ll 


-2 


6 


I 



15-5 

18-3 

13-2 
7y- 

10 y. 

5-4 



Hi 

u [ 



Z. McGhee. 

4566 children. 

6-18 years 



Boys Girls Both 



12-3 



2-9 

31-21 

42-65 
25-41 



31-I 



3-45 



12-1 



20-70 
10-10 



W. S. Monroe. 

2000 children. 

7-16 years 



Boys Girls Botli 



40 

65' 
70 

Foot- 
ball 
32 



20 

27 



60 

35 



Tag 
50 



44 
73 



31 



4o8 



THE CHILD 



Anglo-Saxon Boys' Plays 
( Neuro-Muscular. ) 



Birth 
o 



Kicking. 
Whole arm, body 
and hand movements. 
Dropping things. Blocks. 
Sand Plays, digging, piling, etc. 
Running, throwing, cutting and fold- 
ing. Swinging. 

Shooting, guns, bows, slings, etc. 
Knife work. Tools of increasing 
complexity. 



Machinery. 
Sailing. 
Rowing. 
Swimming. 



Tag. 
Cross tag. 
Word tag. 
Prisoner's 

base. 

Hide and 

seek. 

Black man. 



Gymnastics. 
Indian Clubs, 
etc. 



Ball 
games. 
One old cat. 
Throwing. 
Duck on Fuiigo. 
a rock. Rounders, 
Leap frog. ^*^- 

Track and Marble games. "Stunts, 
Field Sports, ^^t, cints, hole, etc. 
Foot-ball games. Care of 

land and animals. ^^^ Baseball. 
Hunting, fishing. ^r Basket-ball. 

War. Wrestling, ^r Cricket. 
Boxing, fencing. ^ Hockey. 

Predatory, / Gangs. 

Billiards. i Houses in woods. 

Bowling. / Pals. 

Predatory gangs. 
Hero service. 



Diagram 15. Luther Gulick's Table Showing the Aspects of Group Games 
IN Boys From Seven to Eighteen Years of Age. 



(Used by permission of the Pedagogical Seminary.) 



PLAY 

Clubs* 



409 



Total 
yrs. II yrs. 12 yrs. 13 yrs. 17 yrs. Number. 



Secret Societies: 

Girls 

Boys 

Predatory : 

THE Girls. 

GANG Boys. 
Social Clubs: 

Girls 

Boys 

Industrial : 

Girls 

Boys 

Philanthropic : 

Girls 

Boys 

Lit, Art: 

Girls 

Musical : 

Boys 

Athletic: 

Girls 

Bo5'^s 



o 
31 



22 
7 

54 
II 



67 
23 

25 
m 

104 

28 

187 
59 

22 
II 

65 

28 

69 
406 



The psychological value of play has already been 
touched upon in the theory of play, and so we will 
emphasize here only its especial importance pgychoiogi- 
for nervous children. Wisely directed play cai value of 
can often be made a cure for hysteria, ^ ^^' 
chorea, stuttering, and other such nervous diseases, 
where development of the muscular control, such as 
can be gained in play, is a desideratum. 

In the cities also, where children do not naturally get 
the exercise that a country or a village child gets, it is 
imperative that the exercise should be obtained 
through play, not only because the body is so devel- 
oped, but especially because, as we have already seen, 

*The table is given in per cents ; the totals in absolute numbers. 



4IO 



THE CHILD 



the highest mental and moral virtues can not easily 
flourish where the body is dwarfed. 

Play is an important method of realizing the social 

instincts and at this point w^e run across imitation 

again. Animals in their play imitate the 

ofpiay^^^^^ older ones in their hunting and fighting, 

carrying it to great lengths at times. 

Children in their play with each other have a most 

important aid to social development. 

1. They gain flexibility of mind and self-control. 
Plays quicken the various mental processes. Some 
cultivate perception, close observation; others, imagi- 
nation; others require quick and accurate judgment, 
and so on. Many cultivate all of these to a marked 
extent. Self-control is given by all games to a certain 
extent, for a child learns to meet failure with equanim- 
ity, but competitive games especially cultivate this. 
In all cases where the play is not too intense, the 
whole emotional nature is gladdened and made 
buoyant. "Play is the recruiting office and drill 
sergeant of all the powers of the child." 

2. They have endless opportunities for imitation 
and invention. 

The children in any group always divide into two 
classes — the leaders and the led, the relatively inven- 
tive and the relatively imitative, but there is more or 
less changing of parts here. The imitative child may 
come to school with a new or taking trick, and thus 
become the leader temporarily. In both cases, each 
child learns his own powers and those of the others as 
compared with him. He gets a certain place in the 
group, which he can change if he can develop the 
necessary qualities. He finds the value of cooperation 



PLAV 



411 



in all the games where sides are taken, and at the same 
time the value of individuality and originality if one 
has ambitions to be a leader. Baldwin says: "To 
exhibit what I can do alone is to exhibit my impor- 
tance as a« ally. The sense of my weakness in 
myself is a revelation to me of my need of you as 
an ally. The presence of a stronger than either 
is a direct incitement to quick alliance between 
you and me against him. And the victory gained 
by the alliance is both a confirmation to us of the 
utility of social cooperation and a convincing proof 
to him that society is stronger than the individual. 
The spirit of union, the sense of social depend- 
ence as set over against the spirit of private intoler- 
ance; the habit of suspension of private utilities for 
the larger social good; the willingness to recognize 
and respond to the leadership of the more competent 
— all this grows grandly on the play-ground of every 
school." 

The classical example of the social value of play at 
its best is given in the "Story of a Sandpile." The 
story began when two boys, three and five 
years old, had a pile of sand to play in, and a sandpile^ '^^ 
extended over nine years, the play being 
resumed each summer. The first two summers the 
play was of a desultory character, digging, making 
things that were soon destroyed, and so on; but by 
degrees it assumed an organized character, children of 
the neighborhood were drawn in, and a miniature vil- 
lage was made. The village was laid out in streets; 
houses, barns, and other buildinf s were whittled out, 
as were also people and animals. Gradually a govern- 
/ment was evolved, each boy expressing the opinions 



412 



THE CHILD 



and doing the work of the doll-men who occupied his 
section of the village. Courts were established, town 
meetings were held, ani all the business of a town 
transacted, although, of course, crudely. The village 
became an excellent training school in good citizen- 
ship. 

The play was carried on only in the summer, but 
while in their city homes through the winter, the boys 
would make new men and implements and get all the 
mechanism of the town ready for the next summer. 
They had set forms for their men, houses, etc., from 
which they rarely deviated, although as they grew 
older they saw the crudity of them. As the boys 
reached adolescence, they began to lose interest in the 
village, they became conscious of the observation of 
their play, and gradually the village became once 
more only a sand pile, having served fully its educa- 
tional function. 

It seems hardly possible, in view of all these facts, 
to overestimate the value of play, and here, as in so 
many other cases, we see again the importance of 
education following the leading of the child. 

In conclusion, then, we may say that from the very 
earliest time, play has been recognized as a valuable 
means of education, and that to-day it is used sys- 
tematically in many schools to develop the child when 
the appliances of formal education fail. 

Theoretically, play includes at least three factors — 

the physiological, the biological, and the psychological. 

To the first we may refer those plays result- 
Conclusion. . r ^ r 

mg trom an overiiow or nervous energy or 

from a turning of the energy into a new channel for 

recreation; to the second we refer for the explanation 



PLAY 



413 



of the hereditary form which play so commonly 
assumes; and to the third for the understanding of the 
factor of voluntary self deception which appears in 
many games and plays. 

When we consider the character of the plays, we see 
that in babyhood, the so-called plays are in truth only 
experimenting with the sense-organs and the muscles. 
Children between three and seven years, play dramatic 
plays, but all are imitative and, as a rule, non-competi- 
tive. They rarely play games. This period is the one 
when toys, especially the doll, are loved. 

Between nine and fourteen years, a great variety of 
plays appears; the interest in traditional games is 
strong; all games become highly competitive and 
involve violent exercise. At adolescence, a strong 
interest in clubs appears, which endures to a consider- 
able extent. At all ages after babyhood, the social 
value of play is great, because by it each child is made 
to see his dependence upon others and his own use to 
them. Through it he is educated for good citizenship 
in the world of work. 

REFERENCES 
Atkins, T. B, Out of the Cradle into the World. 
Blow, Susan E. Symbolic Education, yw-i^'^. N. Y. Appleton, 

$1.50. 
Bolin, Jakob. Group Contests. Am. Phys. Educ. Rev., Vol. 

LI v., 288-294. (Plea for making all-round athletes instead 

of specialists. ) 
Bolton, H. C. Counting-out Rhymes of Children. L. Stock, 

$1.75. (An account of the origin of counting-out rhymes, 

and a list of them.) 
Bradley, J. E. Relation of Play to Character. Educ, March, 

1899. 
Brown, T. Y. Boy's Games. Association Outlook (Springfield, 

Mass.), February, 1899, gGrioy, 



414 



THE CHILD 



Chamberlain, A. F. The Child, pp. 10-27. W. Scott. 

Champlin, J. D., and Bostwick, A. E. Young People's Encyclo- 
pedia of Games and Sports. N. Y. Holt, $2.50. 

Compayre, G. Intellectual atid Moral Development of the 
Child. Chapter on Play. N. Y. Appleton, $1.50. 

Croswell, T. R. Amusements of Two Thousand Worcester 
School Children. Ped. Sem., 1898-99, 314-371. (Very full 
account.) 

Culin. Street Games of Brooklyn. Am. four. Folk Lore, July 
to September, 1891, 221-237. 

Felker, Allie M. Play as a Means of Idealizing. Proc. N. E. A., 
1898, 624-630. 

Forbush, W. B. Social Pedagogy of Babyhood. Ped. Sem. , 
1900, 307-2-55. (Inspiring.) 
The Boy Problem. Boston. Pilgrim Press, $0.75. 

Froebel, F. Education of Man. See Analytical Index on Play. 
N. Y. Appleton, $1.50. 

Gomme, Alice B. Children' s Sitiging Games. N. Y. Macmillan, 
$1.50. (Pictures, directions and music for the games.) 

Groos, Karl. The Play of Man. N. Y. Appleton, $1.50. 
The Play of Animals. N. Y. Appleton, $1.75. 
t-^ Gulick, Luther. Psychological, Pedagogical and Religious 
Aspect of Group Games. Ped. Sem., 1899, 135-151. (Sug- 
gestive.) 
Psychical Aspects of Muscular Exercise. Pop. Sc. Mo., Octo- 
ber, 1898, Vol. LIII., 705-793. 

Hall, G. S. Dolls. Ped. Sem., 1896, 129-175. 

Story of a Sandpile. Scribner' s Mag., June, 1888. 

Howells, W. D. A Boy's Town. N. Y. Harper, $1.25. 

Johnson, G. E. Play in Physical Education. Proc. N. E. A., 
1898, 948-954. (Good.) 

Johnson, G. E. Education b}^ Plays and Games. Ped. Sem., 
1894. (Review of games of children over six years, with 
qualities developed b}' each. Good.) 

Johnson, John. Rudimentary Society among Boys, fohn Hop- 
kins U. Studies, 2d Series, Vol. II. Also in Overland^ 
Mo., October, 1883. 

McGhee, Zach. Play Life of Some South Carolina Children. 
Ped. Sem., December, 1900. (Children all ages. Good.) 



PLAY 



in 



McKee, J. H. Developmental Influences of Play. Pediatrics, 

1899. 
Monroe, W. S. Play Interests of Children. Proc. N. E. A., 

1899, 1084-1090. (Good, but limited to summer plays.) 
Newell, W. W. Gafnes and Songs of Ainerkan Children. 
Pollock, Susan P. Ideal Play in the Kindergarten, Proc. N. E. 

A., 1898, 604-608. 
Poulsson, Emilie. From Play to Earnest. Kgn. Rev., Vol. IX., 

p. 687. 
Preyer, W. Senses a?id Intellect. See Index. N. Y. Appleton, 

$1.50. 
Richter, Jean Paul. Levana. N. Y. Macmillan, $1.00. 
Sheldon, H. D. Institutional Activities of American Children, 

A7n. Jour, of Psy., Vol. IX., 425-448. 
Sisson, Genevra. Children's Plays. Barnes's Studies in Edu- 

catio7i. Chicago. University of Chicago Press. (Study of 

29 kindergarten children. Good.) 
Stanley, H. M. Evolutionary Psychology of Feeling. See 

Index. N. Y. Macmillan, $2.25. 
Stevenson, R. L. Virgitiibus Puerisque. (Child's Play.) N. Y. 

Scribner, $1.25. 
Stoneroad, Rebecca. Gy^ntiastic Stories aftd Plays for Primary 

Schools. Boston. Heath, $0.75. 
Sully, James. Studies of Childhood. (Imagination in Play.) 
N. Y. Appleton, $2.50. 



27 



CHAPTER XX 

Summary 

We are now in a position to estimate in a rough way 
how much has been accomplished by Child-Study up 
to the present time. In the study of the child's body 
far more has been done than in any other branch of 
the subject. The results, however, are not, on the 
whole, very satisfactory, for while the rhythms of 
growth in height and in weight are well established, 
both for the whole period of childhood and for the 
shorter periods of the year, season, month and day, 
their causes and their connection with mental develop- 
ment are not yet clearly understood. The most that 
we are able to say with certainty is that there seems 
to be a certain average height for each member of a 
family at a given age, which his body will endeavor to 
attain even under the most unfavorable conditions, but 
which it will not much exceed under the most favor- 
able conditions. If growth is stunted by any cause 
whatever, it has some effect on mental growth, but 
what effect is not definitely known, although it is prob- 
ably true that periods of the most rapid increase in 
weight are the periods when the mind is best able to 
work. Growth of all parts of the body is far more 
rapid during the first year of life than at any other 
time, and is in general more rapid during the early 
years than the later ones. Babyhood and childhood 
are therefore the periods when education has the most 
effect. 

416 



SUMMARV 



417 



When the child's health is poor or his bodily condi- 
tion abnormal in any way, he is in so far hindered in 
his mental development. Fatigue means poor atten- 
tion, poor memory, poor reasoning powers, and less- 
ened moral sense, as well as lessened powers of 
observation. It may be brought about by a number of 
causes other than overwork. Bad air, bad lighting, 
and uncomfortable seats in the schoolroom are potent 
factors on the physical side; while on the mental side 
must be considered overworry, fear, and bad habits of 
study. These factors are probably more important in 
producing fatigue under our present school conditions 
than is the one factor, overwork. 

There are, however, exceptional children, who are 
not able to do the normal amount of work on account 
of some nervous defect. Such children need, more 
than others, to be properly fed and to have all the sur- 
roundings hygienic. They, more than others, need 
careful individual study in order that we may enter 
into their mental condition and save them from the 
loneliness, and from the social uselessness or the 
criminality into which they may drift if left to develop 
their abnormal tendencies. In this connection we can 
not afford to ignore the dangers to which we expose 
children by leaving them ignorant of the questions of 
sex. We know that oftentimes children get perverted 
ideas and learn immoralit}^ when they might have 
been saved by a little timely instruction. 

In considering the growth of the child's mind we 
first took up sensation and perception. At birth a 
baby's senses are very undeveloped. He does not dis- 
tinguish even taste with any accuracy; he is deaf at 
first and learns to distinguish sounds only after some 



4i8 



THE CHILD 



months; he can not control the eyes so as to converge 
them upon one object, and accommodation is not 
established, so that he sees very indistinctly. 

About the second month, however, sight becomes 
distinct, and thenceforward the baby begins to study 
the world about him. At first it is principally a visual 
world, and he exercises himself in connecting with 
each other the various things that he sees, so as to 
recognize an object in its different appearances. 
After the first half year he is greatly helped in this by 
his hands, and he is aided from the beginning by the 
touch sensations obtained from putting things into his 
mouth. Through the combination of touch and sight 
he thus learns the world of objects and his own body. 

His acquisitions here are made permanent as mem- 
ory arises, and, with the acquisition of memory, come 
habits. Fleeting at first, enduring hardly for an hour 
in the second month, memory persists for weeks or 
months before the end of the first year, and certain 
memories may endure for life after the third or fourth 
year. Each age appears to have its characteristic kind 
of memory, according to the prominent interest of 
that age, and even where no interest enters, as in 
learning nonsense lists, there are certain definite laws 
under which the mind works and which may be used to 
advantage in teaching. 

When a child has become somewhat familiar with 
the world about him and has stored up some expe- 
riences in memory, we find that he begins to play with 
these experiences and memories, to make new combi- 
nations of them in thought; that is, to imagine. This 
becomes prominent about the third year. At first the 
play is carried on with very little regard to the actual 



SUMMARY . jQ 

occurrences in the outside world. The child's great 
ignorance of the world, of what is possible and what 
is impossible, and his enjoyment of his power to do 
what he will with his images, combine to produce all 
sorts of grotesque fancies which he is not always able 
to distinguish from realities. 

But as perception becomes more accurate, and as he 
meets with unbelief and distrust from those to whom 
he tells his fancies, he learns to create and to invent in 
a manner that is more in accordance with natural law 
and with social needs. He confines himself more to 
changes that he may make in himself and his sur- 
roundings, and so we commonly say that he becomes 
less imaginative. This is not strictly true. He is not 
less imaginative, but he orders his imagination better 
Fmally, in most children, imagination becomes so 
subordinated to the necessities of life that it does little 
more than enable them to earn their living in the way 
that those around them do. Thought, playing freely with 
its images in artistic creation, is put into a strait-jacket 
by the customs and prejudices which refuse to accept 
new ideas and starve the man who dares to have them. 
As imagination becomes more subject to the laws of 
things, it becomes closely connected with reason. 
The child's memories of similar experiences connect 
themselves together, and he thus gets crude ideas of 
classes, of law, and of number and time. The process 
in such cases seems to consist simply in this, that one 
factor becomes disengaged from the others because it 
is repeated more constantly or because the attention is 
directed to it especially. The recognition of cause 
and effect appears in the beginning to be only a mem- 
ory of time sequences, especially of the sequences in 



^20 '^^^ CHILD 

the movements of the child's own body and the effects 
of those movements. As images become more firmly 
established, the child learns to manipulate them so as 
to satisfy certain desires; that is, he learns to plan and 
to form purposes. He adapts means to ends; that is, 
he reasons. His first adaptations are as crude as his 
first imaginings, and go through the same process of 
snubbing and alteration, until, with maturity, he learns 
to reason, as we say, correctly. 

The child employs his imagination and his reason- 
ing powers upon all the subjects which come into his 
life, as we have seen, but there are two especially 
important groups which we shall now consider: 
namely, his religious and his moral ideas. His first 
religious ideas, like all others, are derived from what 
he sees going on about him, and he accepts the views 
of his little world without question, modifying them 
unconsciously by his own imaginings and by his own 
interpretations of words, filling out the gaps by his 
own fancies, until he oftentimes has a new system. 
From the age of nine, however, doubts begin to 
appear, and at adolescence are likely to culminate in 
a thorough questioning of the entire system of relig- 
ious belief and to end in conversion. The sudden 
awakening at this time to the importance of religion is 
due to the profound bodily changes going on, changes 
which are reflected in the child's mental condition. 
The character of the conversion varies with the tem- 
perament of the child and with what he desires and 
expects. In many cases it is followed in a year or so 
by a reaction, a backsliding, which may end either in 
open rupture with the church or in an intellectual 
readjustment of belief within the church itself. 



SUMMARY 



421 



The knowledge of good and evil follows the same 
general course of development as do religious ideas. 
At first it is simply the acceptance of custom. Obe- 
dience to secure pleasures and to avoid pains is the 
highest morality of the little child. But by degrees 
he acquires the- conception of a law that is beyond any 
person; and at adolescence the obligation to obey this 
law becomes an impelling power. 

If now we consider the general development of the 
processes of perception, memory, imagination and 
thought, we may fancy it as an ever-swelling wave. 
There is at first but the feeble power of sensation, 
which is presently reenforced by sense-perceptions. 
When memory is added, these become far more numer- 
ous and distinct. As the memory wave approaches its 
crest, it bears upon its bosom fancies which, rapidly 
increasing in volume, swell the already strong torrent 
of perceptions and memories. And finally comes the 
wave of conceptions, reaching its culmination at 
adolescence. After this time the four sweep on 
together in an ever-swelling tide, each one inextri- 
cably mingled with the rest, and the whole made ever 
more resistless, as reading and travel carry the tide of 
consciousness on to still greater heights. At last 
comes the time when flood-tide is reached, when the 
man, in the full maturity of his powers, does with a 
mighty strength his chosen work; and then follows the 
ebb, when little by little the tide sets back, as there 
pass away first reason and imagination, then memory, 
and at last even clear perception, leaving once more 
the old man in the mental state of the baby. 

In the discussion of feeling and emotion we saw that 
there is a great need of further study. With the 



•* 



422 



THE CHILD 



exception of anger and fear, practically none of the 
child's emotional states have been carefully described. 
Anger and fear appear to be instinctive emotions, but 
are roused by different objects in different children. 
Anger is the reaction, at first, against pain, deprivation 
or disappointment, and seems to be best controlled by 
diverting the energy into other channels instead of by 
allowing the child to brood over his injury or to dis- 
cuss it. Fear seems to be caused by anything that 
makes the child feel his helplessness, whether the 
object is known to be dangerous, or is simply strange 
or mysterious, or startling. The number of fears 
increases steadily, but the character changes. Imagin- 
ary fears and the fear of nature increase as the child 
grows older. 

We know so little of the other emotions that we can 
make no general statements regarding them. 

In discussing the child's doing, we must first note 
the great division into involuntary and voluntary acts. 
Involuntary movements are important because they 
furnish the child with the material for the later volun- 
tary movements. They include all impulsive, reflex, 
and instinctive movements. At birth the child is able 
to carry out all the movements necessary to maintain 
life, but none of them appear to be as perfect as later, 
after a little exercise in their performance. Other 
movements, such as movements of the eyes, head, 
hands, and legs, occur only as the result of stimula- 
tion, or as the overflow of nervous energy, and are not 
under the child's control at first. When they do 
occur, however, their general character is the same as 
later when they become voluntary, and they serve 
thus as involuntary exercises for the child. For 



SUMMARY 



423 



example, the involuntary movements of the hand 
foreshadow reaching and grasping; those of the legs, 
walking; the babblings which exercise lips and tongue, 
talking. The child is thus prepared for the time when 
the instinct of imitation shall rise to serve as his 
teacher. This occurs between the fourth and sixth 
months. Thenceforward the acquisition of voluntary- 
movements of all sorts is very rapid. The order of 
control of these movements begins with the larger and 
less complex ones, like the movements of the legs and 
arms, and proceeds to the finer ones, such as control of 
the individual fingers, and the rate of increase in control 
decreases from year to year. As it is often stated, the 
growth is from control of the fundamental to control 
of the accessory movements. 

When we undertake to trace the changes in any one 
series of voluntary movements, we find the task much 
complicated by the constant alterations in the move- 
ments due to the developments and changes in the 
child's interests. Imitation, for example, while it is a 
true instinct, and is at first largely a mechanical repro- 
duction of what holds the child's eye, is, even as early 
as the end of the first year, greatly modified by the 
child's individual interests and surroundings. Any 
child imitates those forms of the race activities which 
he sees going on about him — talking,, walking, and 
such bodily activities, as well as all the activities of 
the household and of the village or town — and is 
incalculably aided in his individual growth thereby; but 
such imitation soon becomes but a tool. As soon as 
he has become somewhat familiar with the movements, 
he begins to vary them, to make new combinations, in 
short, to invent. In all this he is repeating on the side 



424 



THE CHILD 



of movement the same growth that we noticed in 
passing from memory to imagination and reasoning. 

The child's drawing shows still more markedly his 
mental growth. At first a mere scrawl, meaningless 
to others and to himself as soon as he forgets his 
intention, it gradually becomes a conscious imitation 
of something, and then the attempt to reproduce a 
story or situation, an attempt modified more or less 
consciously by the child's own imagination. At first a 
drawing without detail, with many of the most impor- 
tant factors omitted, it by degrees introduces the 
important things— such as all the parts of the body — 
and passes on to ornamentations and decorations in 
which the child's own taste appears. At first a thing 
which the child enjoys on account of the movements, 
it becomes a thing which he enjoys for what it means 
to him, for the sake of the product of which he can 
criticise the technique. Of the subjects which the 
child would choose to draw at different ages, we can 
at present say little, but we can predict with confi- 
dence that they would reflect the child's strongest 
interest at each age. He naturally produces figures 
in action better than figures at rest, showing here also 
his strong love of movement, and his tastes would 
doubtless declare themselves in all the details of his 
work. 

Play, more than any other form of childish activity, 
shows child-nature, declaring both its past and its pos- 
sibilities. It is not saying too much to assert that the 
playfulness of the young of any species is greater 
the higher the species stands in the scale of life, for the 
longer the playtime of the young, the more will they 
be educated and the more will they learn new methods 



SUMMARY 



425 



of protecting themselves and of securing advantages. 
A long playtime, that is, a long period of preparation 
for the duties of adult life, is the necessity of progress. 

The child begins to play almost at birth or as soon 
as he begins to delight in the feelings obtained from 
the exercise of his senses and his muscles. Later on, 
when through imitative play he has obtained control 
of his body, he plays with his fancies and ideas, and 
by means of toys makes for himself a world mingled 
of facts and fancies, a little cosmos compact of truth 
and legend, in which he moves freely, glorying in his 
creative power. But about the ninth year, a new 
aspect of growth becomes prominent. His rapidly- 
growing body calls now for more violent exercise, and 
his developing mind demands more variety and more 
difficulty. Games that call for physical strength, and 
in which the element of rivalry is strong, become far 
more prominent. At this time the old, traditional 
games have their strongest hold. Latest of all, with 
adolescence comes the manifestation of the social 
spirit in the organization of teams and clubs, in which 
the play is carried on in a systematized way, with a 
conscious purpose. 

Here we must conclude this study of the wonderful 
child-nature to which we look for the regeneration of 
the race. So complex is it, so rich and so varied in 
its forms, that not even the completest study could fully 
describe it. This resume has done its part if it has 
now and then given us a new glimpse of the little 
child who stands wondering and innocent at the thresh- 
old of life, or if it has made clearer to us the truth that 
to love children wisely we must know them well. 



THE INDEX 



Abnormal children, 47-52. 

Abuse, sexual, 62-63. 

Accomodation of lens in baby, 83. 

Action, imitation of, 296-297. 

Adjustable seats, 43-45. 

Adolescence, changes at, 58-59 ; and 
conversion, 181-182. 

Adults, imitation of, 296. 

Affection, 227. 

Age and disease, 25-26 ; and memory, 
"3- 

Air, and fatigue, 41 ; test of, 41 ; to 
secure pure, 41 ; importance, 42-43. 

Ambitions (»f children, 130-137. 

Anger, 216-218. 

Animals, and expressive cries, 316- 
317; imitation of, 296; interest in, 
242. 

Arithmetic, interest in, 243. 

Associations, earliest, 85; and reason- 
ing, 158-159; and puberty, 59. 

Automatic movements, 254-257. 

Baby-talk, 323. 

Bad, ideas of good and, 198-199. 

Baldwin, J. Mark, on color, 375 ; 
drawing, 382-383 ; imitation, 298 ; 
instinct of distance, 89-90; inven- 
tion, 128-129; concept, 147 ; rhythm, 
341-342 ; suggestion, 303. 

Barnes, Earle, on drawing, 384-386; 
interests, 239-240; punishments, 201- 
203; theological ideas, 180-181. 

Bashfulness, 224. 

Beauty, love of, 374. 

Bergen, on religious education, 177- 
178. 

Binet, on interests, 239-240. 

Blood, changes at puberty in, 58. 

Body, control of, 275-288 ; importance, 
9; child's vs. man's, 17; rhythms 

of» 340-341- 
Bolton, on rhythms, 342. 
Brain, control of movements, 278 ; 

growth of, 280. 



Bryan, on control of movements, 282. 
Bryant, on memory, 111-112. 
Buckman, origin of speech, 319-320. 
Bullying and teasing, 198. 

Calendar forms, 115-118. 

Calkins, on fears, 220-221. 

Caresses, 227. 

Causes, interest in, 237, 239, 245 
reasoning on, 156, 160. 

Cell, growth of, 17-18. 

Chance, idea of, 196. 

Chandler, on hopes, 131. 

Children, imitation of, 296. 

Child-study, 9-12. 

Classes, idea of, 144. 

Classification and language, 332-335. 

Climbing, 265-266. 

Clow, on reasoning, 163-166. 

Clubs, 409. 

Coe, on conversion, 185. 

Color, discrimination of, 281-282; 
interest in, 240, 375; vocabulary, 
326. 

Comparison, 145-146. 

Compayre, on impulsive movements, 
257; pains and pleasures, 214; sen- 
sations, 71 ; sound, 76. 

Concept, of good and evil, 193-211; 
and language, 332-335 ; and reason- 
ing, 141-172. 

Consonants, order of appearance in 
speech, 319-321. 

Control of body, 275-288. 

Convergence of eyes, 83. 

Conversion, 182 188, 190. 

Creeping, 264-265. 

Cries, expressive, 316-317, 319. 

Criminals, bodily condition of, 48 ; 
treatment of, 49. 

Cruelty, 198. 

Culture epochs, 248-249. 

Curiosity, 168. 

Custom, idea of, 199. 



426 



THE INDEX 



427 



Dance, and origin of music, 344. 

Darrah, on hopes, 131. 

Darwin, on anger, 216; origin of 

music, 344 ; sounds, 320. 
Deafness at birth, 75-76. 
Deductive reasoning, 165. 
Degenerate, the, 50-51. 
Demme, on head movertients, 261. 
Dermal senses, 77-80. 
Dewey, on affection, 226 ; concept of 

number, 149-150; first vocabulary, 

325- 
Diet of children, 74-75. 
Disease, and age, 25-26 ; and posture, 

43- 
Distance, concept of, 151-152 ; and 

imagination, 127 ; instinct of, 89-90. 
Dolls, 404-406. 

Drawing, 373-392 ; interest in, 243. 
Dreams and imagination, 122. 

Ebbinghaus, on memory, 109-111. 

Education and conversion, 184; and 
nerve cells, 18 ; and rhythms of 
growth, 25 ; by play, 393-395. 

Ellis, Havelock, on sexual abuse, 62. 

Emotion, feeling and, 212-230 ; early, 
212, 

Ends and means, 167. 

Esthetic feeling and imitation, 300. 

Evil, concept of good and, 193-21 1. 

Evolution, 290-292. 

Fatigue, 35-46; and memory, 115; 
and play, 396-397. 

Fear, 219-224; and fatigue, 38; per- 
sistence of, 102. 

Feelings and emotions, 212-230. 

Feldman, on first words, 324. 

Flanders, on drawing, 385, 387-389. 

Food, effect on weight, 19, 23; natvi- 
ral vs. artificial, 19. 

Form, interest in, 240, 375-376. 

Frear, on imitation, 296. 

Friendship and moral education, 209. 

Games, interest in, 236 ; at different 
ages, 403, 406, 407-409 ; and play, 396. 
Gates, on favorite songs, 345-348. 
Geography, interest in, 243. 



Gestures, instinctive, 312-314 ; volun- 
tary, 314; and words, 316. 

Gilbert, on control . of movements, 
282. 

Good and evil, concept of, 193-211; 
198-199. 

Good breeding and morality, 208-209. 

Grasping, 8082 ; observations on, 69 ; 
interest in, 235. 

Growth, 15-25; in control of body; 
275-288; and school grading, 284, 
concept of, 150 ; rhythms of, 269. 

Guyau, on suggestion, 305. 

Gymnastics and play, 399. 

Habit, 293-294, 98-101. 

Hale, on children's inventions of 
words, 327-328. 

Hall, G. S., on contents of children's 
minds, 92-93, 242 ; early memories, 
102 ; dolls, 404-406 ; fear, 222-223 ; 
rehgious training, 188-189 ; tickling 
and laughing, 215-216. 

Hall, Mrs. W. S., on rolling, 263; 
creeping, 264 ; walking, 267-268 ; 
sound sensations, 76 77 ; grasping, 
80-81 ; eye movements, 84-85 ; per- 
ception, 88-89. 

Hamburgher, on hopes, 135-137- 

Hancock, reasoning on number, 166. 

Handwork, 276, 285-288. 

Health and play, 396-397 ; and mem- 
ory, 115 ; and idiocy, 48 ; and crim- 
inality, 48 ; and morality, 207-208. 

Hearing, colored, 115 ; tests for, 34-35. 

Height, and weight, 283, 21 ; increase 
in, 20. 

Heredity, and interest. 232-233 ; and 
plays, 397-398. 

History, interest in, 243. 

Holbrook, on fear, 222. 

Hopes of children, 130-137. 

Hygiene of sex, 64-65. 

Hypnotism, 293. 

Ideals of children, 130-137. 
Ideas and suggestion, 304. 
Idiot, bodily condition, 48 ; treat- 
ment of, 49. 



428 



THE INDEX 



Illusions and imagination, 123-124. 

Images, 105-109 ; and memory, 103- 
107 ; and concepts, 143 ; and relig- 
ion, 176, 190. 

Imagination, 120-140 ; and play, 399- 
400; and reason, 155. 

Imbecile, bodily condition, 48 ; treat- 
ment of, 49. 

Imitation, interest in, 235-236 ; and 
play, 402 ; and suggestion, 290-310. 

Impulsive movements, 254-257. 

Inattention and fatigue, 45. 

Individual and race, 248-249; method, 
10. 

Inductive reasoning, 161-162. 

Inflections, children's, 329-330. 

Insensitiveness and fatigue, 45. 

Instinct, and gesture, 312-314; of imi- 
tation, 294-295; and play, 397-398 ; 
and movement, 259-272. 

Interests, 231-251 ; and fatigue, 40 ; 
and feeling, 213 ; and memory, 113- 
114. 

Invention and imitation, 301-302 ;and 
imagination, 128. 

Involuntary movement, 252-272. 

Jacobs, on memory, 111-112. 

Jealousy, 218. 

Jegi, on hopes, 132-133 ; on money 

motive, 134. 
Joys and sorrows, 224-225. 

Keller, Helen, early memories, 102 ; 

prominent images, 107. 
Kirkpatrick, on memory, 112-113. 

Lancaster, on sexual dangers, 63. 
Language, 311-338; secret, 330-332; 

and conception, 153-154 ; interest in. 

235) 236, 243. 
Laughing, tickling and, 215. 
Law, idea of, 160-161, 199. 
Lies, 196-197 ; and imagination, 126, 

129-130. 
Lips, sensitiveness of, 78. 
Locomotion, 263-269. 
Love, 226-228. 

Marsh, on songs, 345-348. 
Mass, drawing in, 384, 387. 



McDonough farm, 195-196. 

Means and ends, 67. 

Melody, love of, 344-3451 349-350. 

Memory, 96-119 ; earliest, 85 ; and im- 
agination, 121. 

Mental, development and physical, 
16, 32, 59 ; fatigue, 37-45. 

Methods of Child-Study, 10. 

Monotony and fatigue, 39. 

Monroe, on hopes, 131, 133. 

Morality, religion, and theology, 174- 
175; of child, 193-211; and health, 
16, 32, 45, 48, 207-208; and good breed- 
ing, 208-209 ) ^""^ friendship, 209. 

Moral training, 204-209. 

Aiosso, on emotions and movements, 
292-293. 

Mouthing, 78 80, 260. 

Movements, 252-274 ; and conscious- 
ness, 292-294 ; random, 80 ; of hands, 
81 ; of eyes, 83-85 ; interest in, 236, 
240, 243, 245 ; imitation of, 296-297 ; 
expressive, 312-314 ; control of, and 
mental ability, 285 ; control of, and 

- height and weight, 283. 

Muscles, fatigue of, 36, 45-46; read- 
ing, 293. 

Music, rhythm and, 339 ; in Elemen- 
tary School of University of Chi- 
cago, 349-370 ; interest in, 243. 

Mystery and imagination, 127. 

Names, love of, 154. 
Nature, interest in study of, 243, 245; 
and religion, 177, 189-190; rhythms 

of) 339- 

Nerve cells, 277 ; connections be- 
tween, 279-280; and movements, 
276-277 ; and education, 18 ; and 
fatigue, 18. 

Nerve fibers, 277-280 ; and associa- 
tion and comparison, 145 ; and 
imagination, 122 ; and memory, 
96-97. 

Nervousness, 46-47. 

Noises, love of, 344. 

Number, concept of, 149-150; reason- 
ing on, 166; forms, 115-118. 

Nursery rhymes, 342-343. 



THE INDEX 



429 



Observation of children, importance 
of, 13; general directions for, 13-14 ; 
for concepts, 141 ; for drawing, 373 ; 
for feeling and emotion, 212 ; for 
control of body, 275 ;. for imitation 
and suggestion, 290 ; for move- 
ments, 252; for language, 311; for 
memory, 96; for imagination, 120; 
for moral sense, 193 ; for music and 
rhythm, 339 ; for play, 393 ; for 
religious sentiment, 173. 

Order, law and, 160-161. 

Originality and imitation, 301-302. 

Ornamentation, 380-381. 

O'Shea, on love of pictures, 378 ; or- 
namentation, 380-381. 

Outline, drawing in, 384, 387. 

Overwork, 37. 

Overworry, 38. 

Ownership, idea of, 195-196. 



Pains and pleasures, first, 213-214. 

Parental instinct, 270. 

Perception, and conception, 144; and 
imagination, 123 ; and memory, 97 ; 
and movement, 253 ; and sensation, 
69-95- 

Perez, on fatigue, 214 ; on compar- 
ison, 146 ; spontaneous imagina- 
tion, 122 ; the first vocabulary, 324- 
325- 

Personification, 124-125, 156-157. 

Persons, interest in, 236, 239, 243, 245- 
246. 

Phillips, on teaching instinct, 270. 

Phj'siological suggestion, 303. 

Pictures, love of, 376-379. 

Pity, 225-226. 

Play, 393-415- 

Playmates, imaginary, 126-127. 

Pleasures, pains and, 213-214. 

Possession, idea of, 195-196. 

Postures, and disease, 43. 

Preyer, on class ideas, 145 ; fear, 220 ; 
imitation, 295; gestures; 312-314; 
memories, 103-104; movements, 84, 
85, 258-259, 261, 262, 267, 268 ; pains 
and pleasures, 214: sensations, 71, 
73, 76, 78, 80 ; perceptions, 88, 89 ; 
instinct of distance, 97 ; language, 
319, 326, 327, 328. 



Programs, school, and fatigue, 39. 

Pronunciation, 322-323. 

Puberty, 58-59 ; and conversion, 181- 

182. 
Punishment, 200-209. 
Purpose, idea of, 158. 

Questions, children's, 168-169. 

Race and individual, 248-249. 
Random movements, 254-257. 
Reasoning, and conception, 141-172 ; 

and imagination, 125-126. 
Recognition, 85. 
Recollections, loi. 
Reflex movements, 257-259. 
Religious sentiment and theological 

ideas, 173-192. 
Repetition, in imitation, 298-299. 
Reproductive organs, 57. 
Rhythm and music, 339-372 ; interest 

in, 236, 242. 
Ribot, on number, 149. 
Richter, on suggestion, 308. 
Rivalry and fatigue, 38. 
Rolling, 263-264. 

Salisbury, on vocabulary, 325. 
Sandpile, story of a, 411-412. 
Sanford and Triplett, on rhythms, 

342. 
Schallenberger, on punishment, 200. 
Scott, C, on anger, 217-218. 
Seats, 43-45. 
Seeing, interest in, 235. 
Self, concept of, 151. 
Selfishness in affection, 227. 
Sensation, and perception, 69-95 j the 

first, 71 ; cultivation of, 91 ; effect of 

defective, 92-93 ; and concepts, 144 ; 

and puberty, 59 ; and memory, 96- 

97 ; play with, 400-402. 
Sentences, first, 328-329. 
Sequences, in reasoning, 159-160. 
Sex, feelings and ideas of, 56-68 ; 

instruction on, 66 ; abuse, 62-63. 
Shaw, on interests, 239-240. 
Sheldon, on hopes, 135-137. 



4:,6 



THE INDEX 



Shinn, .on color, 375 ; cries, 319-320 ; 
comparisons, 145-146; imitation, 295; 
moveinents of head, 261 ; locomo- 
tion, 263-267; pictures, 377; sensa- 
tions, 71-72; sounds, 76; sucking 
and mouthing, 78-79 ; memory, 85 ; 
perception, 88-89. 

Sight, observations, 69 ; develop- 
ment, 82-85 ; defective, 33 ; and per- 
ception, 87-90. 

Sign language, 314-315- 

Sitting erect, 262. 

Skin, sensitiveness of, 77. 

Small, on suggestion, 304. 

Smell, 71, 73. 

Smile, the first, 214. 

Societies, 409. 

Society, and imitation, 301; and relig- 
ious spirit, 175 ; and moral sense, 
194. 

Songs, 345-348 ; composition of, 350- 
370- 

Sorrows, joys and, 224-225. 

Sound, sensations, 75-77 ; and per- 
ception, 87. 

Speech, 311-338; and drawing, 381- 
382 ; imitation of, 296-297. 

Spelling, interest in, 243. 

Spencer, on punishment, 204. 

Spontaneous movernents, 254-257. 

Starbuck, on religious ideas, 179, 181- 
182, 185-188. 

Statistical method, n. 

Stimulus, response to, 282. 

Stories and imagination, 123. 

Street, on punishment, 201. 

Structure, interest in, 240. - 

Study, and fatigue, 38. 

Suasion, moral, 205. 

Substance, interest in, 240. 

Sucking, 234-235. 

Suggestion, imitation and, 290-310. 

Sully, on concept of growth, 150 ; 
cosmology, 162 ; fear, 219-220 ; love 
of flowers, 376 ; pronunciation, 322- 
323 ; questions, 169. 

Surroundings, early, 103. 

Sympathy, 225-226. 



Taine, on first cries, 320. 

Tapping, rapidity of, 282. 

Taste, sensations of, 71, 73-75; and 

perception, 86. 
Taylor, on hopes, 131 ; on sensations 

of temperature, 77. 
Teacher, and suggestion, 305-308. 
Teaching instinct, 270. 
Teasing and bullying, 198. 
Temperament and conversion, 185. 
Temperature, sensations of, 77. 
Theological ideas, 173-192. 
Thought, 141172; and language, 332- 

333- 
Tickling and laughing, 215. . 
Time, concept of, 152. 
Tones, sensitiveness to, 345. 
Tongue, sensitiveness of, 78. 
Touch, sensations of, 77-78 ; and per- 
ception, 86-90. 
Toys, 404. 
Tracy, on first cries, 321 ; vocabulary, 

325^ 327- 
Trettien, on movements, 255-256 ; 

locomotion, 264 ; sitting, 262. 
Triplett and Sanford, on rhythms. 

342- 
Truth, idea of, 196-197. 

Variety and fatigue, 39-40. 
Ventilation, 41-43. 
Vocabulary, 324-328. 
Voice and puberty, 58. 

Walking, 266-269. 

Weight, increase in, 18-20 ; and food, 
19; and height, 21 ; and muscular 
control, 283 ; discriininations of, 
282. 

Whiting, on personification of num- 
bers, 124-125. 

Will and imitation, 299. 

Winking, 83. 

Wolff, Boy's dictionary, 325. 

Wonder, 168. 

Words, first, 324; invention of, 327; 
and gesture, 316. 

Word forms, 115-118. 

Work and play, 395-396, 



LR6 ?9 



